


100 Drabbles of Samsteve

by Scotland_Axel (orphan_account)



Series: 100 Samsteve Drabbles [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Sam Wilson, Couch Cuddles, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Genderbending, M/M, OTP Feels, OTP: On Your Left - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Samsteve - Freeform, light smut at times, onceuponaprompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 64,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Scotland_Axel
Summary: One hundred little drabbles, a hundred words or more about my favorite otp (otp: on your left). The main focus will always be Samsteve and will most likely feature other ships as well at times. The 100 Drabbles will be staying appropriate for teenage audiences or at the most, becoming a Mature Rating, not Explicit. Ridiculous, mind-numbing, eye-rolling fluff ahead.





	1. Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first chapter yesterday and have not thought of an updating schedule just yet. I'll mostly be doing otp prompts from Tumblr I've seen or from my own head. If aware I will give any credit where it is due. I am also opened to any suggestions or requests through my primary Tumblr account: samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is when Person A can't go to sleep without person B aka Sleepless Nights. Just did a review, this prompt is from onceupona-prompt on Tumblr. There. True to my word.

At this point their bedroom has become a little too meticulously familiar. The number of bricks in the exposed wall, how many books Sam’s crammed into their bookcase, and who has the most dirty laundry on the floor (it’s all Sam’s), are all facts Steve’s never really wanted to know. In the past hour he’s been attempting sleep all he’s in fact accomplished is learning ways to occupy his brain other than counting sheep. 

Steve finally crosses his arms in defeat and allows the forsaken thought to run through his mind.  _ When does Sam get home? _ He left at nine to cover another coworker’s shift at the bar and said he’d be back around midnight at the latest. 

Steve groans and rolls over to stare painstakingly at the clock on their nightstand. 

Wow. He just might actually shoot himself. This could be his last night on earth. Goodbye, cruel world, for it is only  _ 10:30?! _ No, this clock is wrong. It has to be wrong, it feels like he’s been staring at the ceiling for  _ hours!  _

He growls to himself and tosses off their duvet in a huff, sticking his feet in the Kirby slippers (ones Sam got for him too many years ago to remember) by the bed and storming out of their bedroom. Steve makes his way to the front door but thinks better of facing the cold New York night in just his pajamas because that’s a guaranteed tongue-lashing. He pauses to tug a hat on and wrap himself in a fleece blanket before swinging the door open with much of the same irritability. 

“This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous. You shouldn’t be doing this. Sam’s gonna think it’s funny and cute for like two seconds and then he’s gonna send your ass back to the apartment. This is a bad idea…” 

Steve’s mumbled rant stalls as he waits for the crosswalk. He wants to give the lady next to him the bird for staring so hard but instead turns and offers her a sardonic smile.

“Lovely night out isn’t it?” 

“Are those unicorns frolicking on your blanket?”

Steve’s brow furrows, not exactly the response he was banking on, but then again he did grab at random. His eyes slowly move from hers to the aforementioned pattern. Well, what are the odds, two unicorns going at it right on his shoulder. Perfect. 

“No.” He says, leveling her with a completely blank expression, “They’re fucking. They’re an endangered species, they don’t have time to ‘frolic.’” 

She gasps just as the crosswalk sign flashes and hightails her way across the street, appropriately disturbed by Steve’s fucked up sense of humor. He smirks to himself and pulls his trusty blanket tighter around his shoulders. Yeah, it’s fucked up alright, but Sam loves it. 

* * *

 

Steve pushes his way through the pub’s crowd with a constant mantra of “excuse me’s” until he can finally heave himself into a barstool. He barely gets a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before Sam rushes him, furiously cleaning a glass.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

He huffs and snatches off his beanie, “Spending my time wisely.”

“And just how is that?” Sam asks, fondness creeping into his voice. 

Steve looks up at him through his lashes and juts his bottom lip out just so. “I couldn’t sleep without  _ you _ there, idiot.”

Sam barks out a surprised laugh. “How am  _ I  _ the idiot here?”

“You’re the idiot who made me fall in love with you for one thing.” He teases, resting his arms on the bar and leaning forward. 

Sam meets him halfway. “And the other?” He whispers, a game they’re both well used to playing. 

“Like I said I love you, and we all know that if a fool falls in love,” Steve drags out the word with a smile, their lips only a breath apart, “He must have fallen for an idiot.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Steve hums his agreement as the space dissipates between them, their lips meeting for the sweetest hello. He pulls back reluctantly in fear of making a scene, but smiles nonetheless. 

“You’ll never believe what I said to a woman on the way over here.”

“Really? One word.”

“Unicorns.”

  
  


.FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One word is the thing they do before either of them tells a story, like if you had to use one word to sum it all up — unicorns. Thought that might be a point of confusion. Hoped you liked it! I had a really fun time writing this one.


	2. The One With the Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an otp prompt on Tumblr but I can't find it right now so until I do this is it: Person A is drunk and climbs up the fire escape to what they think is their apartment but is actually Person B's. A = Sam Wilson, B = Steve Rogers. Told from Steve's point of view. You can imagine him skinny or as a dorito bc the way I wrote it, he could easily be both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/

Bucky has told Steve numerous times to not leave his window open, especially at night, but given the context of their friendship over the years this is a sure fire way of getting to Steve to do just that. And okay, he isn’t doing it just to be a jerk, he happens to find the sounds and smells of the city to be especially calming to him. They always put him in a good head space, one perfect for sketching idly on the couch as he is now. 

He’s not doing anything special (at least not in his eyes), simply sketching out some snapshots he took at the park earlier today — basic stuff — when he hears someone clambering up the fire escape. Steve’s brow furrows and he leans over the side of the couch to pick up his bat the moment a head pops into his window. 

Huh. His grip goes a little slack at the stranger’s sudden appearance. He’s cute, for one thing. Extremely cute, like fucking handsome, and there’s a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, so he’s most likely drunk too. 

Steve smirks as the guy looks around confusedly for a few blessed seconds before finally noticing him. 

The guy’s eyes widen comically and he slumps against the window frame, waving his free hand about as he says, “Okay, I didn’t  _ think  _ this was my apartment, but now I  _ know _ because I have no white friends that are as hot as you.” 

Steve laughs, caught off guard by the compliment and the guy’s undeniable charm even when intoxicated. 

He nods his head towards him, “Is that whiskey?”

“Pretty sure, yeah, too drunk to tell anymore, but it was when I started.” He replies, his words only holding the slightest slur.

“You up to share?” Steve asks, not believing the words are actually coming out of his mouth.

“With you? Hell yeah.” 

With that the man places the bottle cautiously on the floor before climbing in himself. He picks it back up with a smile Steve can’t easily place and walks over to sit on the coffee table. 

“I’m Sam, by the way.” He says, unscrewing the top and nudging the bottle forward.

“Steve.” He answers, hoping the blush on his cheeks isn’t too noticeable as their fingers brush. Steve takes a long swig, enjoying the burn of his throat and the soothing warmth that pools in his belly. 

“You do this often, Steve?”

“No. I don’t get many tenants climbing my fire escape, so.” He shrugs, already enjoying the company. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

Sam scoffs, “Good, because I wasn’t.” He leans forward and squints up at him like some renowned painting, “Either I’m drunker than I thought or your eyes are  _ wicked  _ blue.”

Steve laughs, ignoring the burn of his cheeks, “Are you  _ flirting _ with me, Sam?” He dips his head back for another taste and watches him. The bastard doesn’t even squirm.

“Yes. I am currently trying to flirt my drunk ass off if you would let me.”

Steve nearly chokes from his giggle but quickly recovers. “I’m certainly not standing in your way.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

He smiles warmly, “That’s how it is.”

Sam rocks back as if surprised. “Good, I might have a shot then. Hopefully in the future though, because yours is not the kind of face I’d want to forget. Which is extremely liable to happen because, I don’t know if I told you this, but I am  _ very  _ drunk right now.”

Steve blushes and looks down at his lap shyly. This is definitely not how he planned to end his night, but that being said, he can’t really imagine any better way. 

The two talk for hours about everything under the sun, from the impossible origin of origami to the ridiculousness of Kanye West tweets until the talking suddenly stops all together. 

Steve can’t remember when Sam sat next to him or how they even managed to get this close. His heart speeds up as he watches Sam’s gaze flicker between his eyes and his lips before inching just a little bit closer. Following the motto very close to his heart Steve mumbles, “Fuck it” and curves his hand around the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him in with a slight moan. 

He’s surprised by how well their mouths slot together, Sam’s warm, soft and full against his own. His hand slides forward to cup his jaw and Steve parts his lips in a gasp when Sam nips at him teasingly. The kiss deepens, effortlessly crossing into French territory with no qualms or complaints from either of them. 

So Steve can’t really say he’s not surprised and disheartened when Sam pulls away. His eyes are serious, well as serious as they can be, Steve’s sure.

He raises a cautious hand and says, “Steve, I think I’m going to go now. Because if I don’t I might not give myself another chance to and I  _ really  _ don’t wanna mess this up.”

“Um…” He drags a hand over his mouth and tries to shut down all the instincts that scream for him to not let Sam go. “Yeah...yeah, okay.”

“I’m in apartment 33C,” He jabs his thumb upwards, “Right above you really, so…”

“I’ll come see you.” He finishes, and Sam smiles up at him, shy but happy.

“Yeah, you should definitely do that. I’ll be waiting.”

Steve’s cheeks burn but before he can say a word Sam’s kissing him fiercely one last time. When he opens his eyes again he’s gone. 

“Wow, that was cool.” He whispers.

Then he hears Sam climbing up the fire escape again, shouting, “I’m a ninja!”

He laughs.

 

.FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/


	3. Chim Chim Cher-ee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are stage actors who met in Juilliard. Told from Sam's point of view. He comes home to find Steve playing his moping playlist, a bunch of sad showtunes. Sam cheers him up with his favorite musical, Mary Poppins. I actually thought of this prompt myself, just something quick and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/
> 
> always open for requests/suggestions!

Sam had first met Steve Rogers their freshman year at Juilliard, the both of them attempting a BFA in Drama. It would be a gross understatement to say they hit it off right away, immediately taking to one another like a moth to a flame or a flower to the light. They promptly moved in together and spent the next four years getting to know each other better than anyone else. Graduation came before they knew it and both young men were startled to find the other’s company suddenly imperative, a presence neither was willing to lose or part ways with. 

And it’s on nights like these that Sam’s glad that they didn’t, because Steve needs him. He knows this as soon as he opens the door to Diana’s heartfelt rendition of “Home” from  _ The Wiz _ , Steve’s favorite sad showtune _. _ He can’t help but give a bitter laugh, shaking his head and emptying his arms of the few groceries he picked up on his way home. 

He pulls off his gloves and tosses them carelessly on the counter, calling out, “Steve?”

Sam receives only a grunt in response, walking further into their apartment to see him slumped in his usual armchair, his bare legs dangling off the side. He’s clad in one of Sam’s baggy sweatshirts — on him at least — and a raggedy pair of checkered boxers. Steve straightens his glasses where they’ve fallen askew and clears his throat. 

Sam just crosses his arms and leans against the entranceway, waiting because Steve can’t keep anything in for long. 

“I was a shoe-in for the part, Sam, but I didn’t get it.”

“And why do you think that is?” He asks.

“The director’s a sleazy piece of shit, I’m pretty sure that has something to do with it, that and the fact I wouldn’t sleep with him when he asked. God, I’m not stupid, Sam, I know it happens, but I just really wanted this part. It was perfect.” Steve’s voice breaks a little on the last word and Sam knows how devastated he must be — not only at losing the role he wanted so badly, but at being disrespected and undermined. 

Two measly tears roll down his cheeks and Steve angrily thrashes them away before Sam can reach him. He runs a hand through Steve’s golden hair before swapping his moping playlist for his favorite musical. 

Steve laughs weakly as the Overture for  _ Mary Poppins  _ plays through his laptop’s speakers. Sam smiles and bends over to gather him in his arms, sitting down in the armchair and placing Steve in his lap. He pulls his knees into his chest and squeezes Sam’s thigh with his toes, resting his head in the warm hollow of his neck. 

Sam’s heart speeds up as Steve’s traces around it with light touches, stopping to simply feel the thrumming beat of his pulse. He continues to give dragging caresses of Sam’s chest but goes into deeper detail about what happened with the audition, how it made him feel. In the crassest of terms, like shit. 

“You can’t tell Bucky, though. He’d hunt the guy down and kill him or something. Nat would probably help.” He adds, sounding weary.

“There’s no probably about it, Steve, Nat would destroy that guy verbally and physically.”

“Yeah, she would.” He pulls back and looks at him suspiciously. “Why didn’t you? You’re taking this way better than I thought you would.”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, just didn’t think that’s what you needed from me right now. It’s not about how something that degraded  _ you  _ makes  _ me  _ feel, I mean, that’s just selfish. If I had said something jealous-like or whatever, then you would definitely know I didn’t really  _ hear  _ you.” Sam tucks him further into his side, “I never want to be that kind of boyfriend.”

“You’re not. You-” Steve’s eyes widen and he bolts upright at the opening notes he’d recognize anywhere. Sam rolls his eyes and laughs even as Steve drags him onto his feet.

“Dance with me.”

“Steve, I love you, but you’re ridiculous.”

“I know. It’s why you love me, come on, you’re leading.”

Sam laughs again but resigns himself, taking Steve’s hand and holding him around the waist. Steve’s golden crown falls against his chest as Sam begins to move them gracefully along to “Chim Chim Cher-ee.”

 

**_Chim chiminey,_ **

**_Chim chiminey,_ **

**_Chim chim cher-ee!_ **

  
.FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/


	4. Night Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam go for a ride on his motorcycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/

Steve has a strange love and appreciation for his motorcycle. Straddling the machine, the power, never ceases to remind him of the serum’s benefits. As a sixteen-year-old in Brooklyn he could only dream of ever riding one lest killing himself or risk Bucky killing him, one or the other. But since coming out of the ice the list for loving his motorcycle has only lengthened. 

It provides a willing distraction for one. The wind whipping through his hair is nothing short of therapeutic, the adrenaline singing just below his skin always welcomed. 

But Sam is why he loves it the most. He absolutely cherishes taking his partner out for rides, Sam’s strong arms wrapped around him, his chin resting on his shoulder just as it is now. 

They roll to a stop at the light and Steve can feel the smile pressed to the back of his neck, blushes when a kiss is placed there too. Then they’re off again. 

Steve races towards the mountains, leaving the city’s lights behind and any neighboring cars, the both of them aching for nature’s solitude. They peak at the top of a hill and begin the heart-racing decline, the air whistling by their ears and pushing fiercely against their clothes. Sam’s arms loosen before he lets go completely and even though it always worries Steve at least for a moment he’s long since given up on talking him out of it. 

He knows Sam spreads his arms wide and tosses his head back, his laugh unhibited and unmistakably youthful, music to Steve’s ears. 

  
.FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://samstevehascorruptedme.tumblr.com/


	5. To Patiently Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is weird and dare-I-say a tad poetic for no reason once so ever, features rape victim Steve and doctor Sam. Warning for this chapter but really there's nothing triggering in the short (200+ words) drabble

If you asked Sam Wilson what it was like being in a relationship with a rape victim he’d tell you patience is a virtue you’d better learn fast. He’d also say if you’re not easily empathetic or compassionate then save the other person any more drama and look elsewhere. After all, it’s exactly what he told himself the day Steve Rogers walked into his clinic. He laughs ruefully at himself now, shaking his head at his own hypocrisy; because, he made it work. He stuck it out with Steve through everything, from the initial report and rape kit to the eventual trial and conviction. 

And he couldn’t tell you why he did it. It felt more so like he couldn’t let it go on without him, as if he  _ needed  _ to be here for this man. He could probably tell you it was love at first sight, liken Steve to a white dove crumpled on the concrete sidewalk and wouldn’t you wonder how it got there? Wouldn’t you see it through to recovery, happy to get a glimpse of it at all? Because to Sam, Steve was radiant even after braving hell. He couldn’t possibly imagine what he would be at his best. So he stayed. And he waited. And he loved until Steve could admit he loved him back. 

.FIN.


	6. Sam, I Shrunk Your Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets turned pocket-sized by Wanda

One moment they were practicing and the next moment Wanda was suddenly towering feet above him with wide eyes, her hands covering her mouth.

“Sam?... I think I shrunk your boyfriend.” Wanda calls out, Steve frowning at the faint amusement in her voice.

He watches Sam run into the room looking very worried, his eyes looking once at Wanda before finding Steve on the ground, only inches high. Sam’s face flips through several emotions at once: confusion, anger, disbelief, amusement, and finally, acceptance. He crouches and puts out his hand.

Steve glares at him for a solid five seconds with his arms crossed before walking over and climbing into his palm.

Sam stands again and looks incredulously down at his boyfriend, still dressed as Captain America and looking like the best action figure known to man. How is this his life? Though really, Steve looks adorable like this. He carefully unbuckles Steve’s chin strap and pulls off his helmet, marveling at his little helmet hair.

“Oh, look at how cute you are.” He coos, rubbing his pointer finger over Steve’s stomach.

Steve giggles and squirms away from the touch, shooing his finger away and scowling up at him. “This is a serious situation, Sam.” He points at him, “Don’t do that again, it tickles.”

“This isn’t serious, Steve, I think you’re forgetting about Tic Tac here.”

“Tic Tac?”

“Scott Lang. One call and maybe a flight out here — all of this can be resolved.” Sam reassures him.

Steve heaves a sigh and nods. “Until then I’m gonna start wearing polo shirts with little pockets and watch you get full from one sandwich.”

Sam turns to Wanda and ignoring Steve’s groan, whispers, “Thanks for this.”

She simply raises an eyebrow as he rushes away, little Steve tucked safely against his chest.

Steve’s not gonna lie, being Sam’s little companion is undoubtedly worse than it ever was being a scrawny loser in 1940s Brooklyn. He’d rather get beat up in ten alleyways than have to suffer through one more day of this. At least when he was weak he could still walk across a room without getting winded or having to be carried in Sam’s shirt pocket.

Steve grunts and jumps up, his fingers latching around the pocket’s edge to pull himself out. He climbs up Sam’s chest to get to his shoulder and his boyfriend raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sam, I hate this.”

“I know, Steve, you’ve made that very clear.”

He holds onto the collar of his shirt and sits down against Sam’s neck. “You have to promise not to tell Bucky.”

“....why?”

“Just promise me, alright? I’m already pissed off enough without him hounding me every five seconds.”

“Steve-”

“He’s gonna make so many jokes, Sam, I know he is. And you know the worst part, they’re not even gonna be good jokes. Maybe the first five or six will be funny but after that?”

“Steve, he already knows.”

“Wait, what?” Steve steps back on Sam’s shoulder like he’s been burned. “Are you serious?”

He watches Sam’s lips pull into a pursed line of neutrality and feels his heart drop to his toes. Steve has two thoughts, none of them exactly helpful. The first? _Well, fuck._ And the second? _Nope._

Before Sam can have any idea what he’s doing Steve gracefully swings off his shoulder and freefalls. His boyfriend gives a very undignified squabble as he skitters down his side, his hands snatching on his belt loops and jumping to the floor.

_“Steve!”_

He pays no mind, simply making a run for the living room — he can hide under the couch in there.

Sam watches the tiny blur that is Steve “Mr. Dramatic” Rogers hightail it down the rest of the hall, or at least he’s sure Steve _thinks_ he’s hightailing it. This is a race Sam can easily win. He sighs and strolls over to where pocket-sized Steve is beginning to slow down because the few feet he’s covered is equivalent to five football fields to him. Finally, he stops and collapses against the wall, his deep pants sounding like little hoarse whistles. Sam crouches and scoops him into his hands like a gentle ladybug.

“Okay, I’m not gonna lie, that was dumb even for you, Steve.” He quips.

Steve rolls into a ball in his palms, still wheezing from exerting so much effort over a few feet. Once he catches his breath Steve flops over into a boneless spread-eagle and looks up at Sam with a hopeless expression, giving him The Puppy-Dog Eyes of Freedom™.

“As the love of my life you are obligated to protect me from harassment. This is the one time I grant you full permission to slug Bucky if he pulls out the puns, deal?” He asks, still a bit winded.

Sam smirks down at him, “When have I ever asked for your permission to do that?”

“True.”

“Exactly.” He replies, walking them both to the kitchen for breakfast.

A few moments later.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you put me back in your pocket? I’m cold.”

  
.FIN.


	7. Finer Things: A Robe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam notices Steve likes soft things and decides to give him one more.

Sam watches, peculiarly enthralled, as Steve lifts a corner of the blanket draped across them and rubs it gently against his cheek. He presses the fabric further into his skin and a soft hum rises in his throat. It’s just fleece, freshly washed and still smelling faintly of detergent, but the look on Steve’s face places it at a much higher value. Sam turns back to the movie they’re watching and decides to say nothing of it, not yet anyway. 

Sam follows up on his hunch only two days later, buying an all silk robe in royal blue and leaving it out for Steve to find. 

“Sam?” Steve’s voice calls from their bedroom. He sounds unsure. 

Sam walks into the room to stand beside him, both of them looking down at the robe in question spread across the bed. There’s a fine dusting of pink across Steve’s cheeks and he swallows loudly. 

“Did...did you get this for me?”

He puts his hands in his pockets and nods, “Yeah, I did.”

Steve looks at him, a little bashful and confused, “Why?”

“I thought you’d like it.” Sam smiles at him, “Try it on, Steve.” 

Sam takes the garment and shoves it into his boyfriend’s hands before sitting down and nodding at him again. The blush on Steve’s face deepens but he moves to strip out of his sweats anyway. 

The moment Steve pulls it on Sam knows he’s earned some major brownie points. Steve’s eyes close and his body goes lax in comfort as the silk draws and settles over his skin, soft and smooth as anything. Sam scoots forward and takes it upon himself to tie it around his waist. Once he’s done he slides his hands over Steve’s torso and grins. 

“You like it, baby?”

“I love it.” He opens his eyes and cups Sam’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over his cheek before leaning down and kissing him. 

“Thank you.”

 

.FIN.


	8. Scruff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam likes a bearded Steve

The first thing to register in Steve’s mind are the fingers gliding over his cheeks, thumbs stroking over the hair covering his jaw. He smiles lazily and lets Sam turn his head to the side, a kiss being pressed to the corner of his mouth and a cheek rubbing against his own. Sam hums his approval before swinging a leg over him and settling atop his chest. Steve’s heart gives a happy flutter at the weight of Sam pressing him down.

“You’re never shaving again.” Sam mumbles. 

Steve laughs, dragging his hands over Sam’s waist and pulling him close. 

“I think I can do that.”

 

.FIN.


	9. High School Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a cheerleader who draws attention (because he's Sam fucking Wilson) and his boyfriend Steve is just a little sore about it.

 

There are perks and upsets with dating a cheerleader, of course everyone knows that, or at least, everyone should. Like perks one and two, a cheerleader’s usually ridiculously hot and wickedly flexible. That’s amazing, what’s not amazing is the fact that no matter who you are, someone’s always going to flirt with your man, sometimes right in front of you.

Logically Steve knows he has no reason to be mad at his boyfriend. It’s not Sam’s fault he’s attractive and charming and can’t stand being anything less than friendly to anyone. Hell, Sam wouldn’t be Sam without all those things and it’s not like he would ever cheat on Steve, or anyone else for that matter. But Steve’s still pissed.

The anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach cools when Sam’s arms wrap around him, but only slightly. Sam nudges against him, pressing a kiss to the spot just below his ear and giving a thoughtful hum.

“Steve?” He asks.

He grunts.

“You still mad?”

He sighs, “Yes, but not at you, okay?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You sure?” Sam asks.

Steve considers lying and brushing it off for a solid minute, but Sam despises lying and the people who do it so he decides against it. He turns in Sam’s arms and looks up at him.

“I just don’t see how you didn’t know that freshman was flirting with you.”

Sam throws his hands up with a groan. “I just thought he was being nice! And I  _ do  _ look good in this shirt.” He pouts and tugs on the hem, “It brings out my eyes.”

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother trying to disagree. He turns and catches Sam’s hand, pulling until the cheerleader falls into his lap with a little “umpf.” Steve sighs and links his arms around Sam’s middle, resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“I know. But only  _ I  _ should get to notice how pretty your eyes are. I should  _ definitely  _ be the only one to comment on it.”

Sam pats his hands placatingly, “I know.”

“I wanted to punch that guy, Sam.”

He snorts out a surprised laugh, “Well I’m glad you didn’t. Tristan is not the sort of guy to survive that.” 

Steve smiles, squeezing Sam closer and leaning forward to hold his gaze. “Really? You think I could’ve knocked him out in one?”

Sam scoffs, “You’re a quarterback being scouted by half the schools in the country, Steve. It’s not a question whether you could do it but more one of how long he would be out and how fast the bruise would come in.”

Steve hums happily at that and kisses Sam’s cheek with a loud smack. Sam giggles and playfully jerks away from him, but they both know with Steve’s embrace he’s not going anywhere.

  
.FIN.


	10. Sam Will Keep You Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a bad night in the Rogers' household and who else is Steve to call but Sam Wilson? Angst Ahead.

Steve listens to the phone ring two times through before there’s a click and some rustling. Sam groans over the line and he imagines him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Steve...I hope you know you seriously jeopardize our love when you call at three in the morning.” 

He bites his lip and tries to calm his breathing before saying anything. He doesn’t want Sam to freak out. He doesn’t really want to bother him at all. 

“It was bad this time, Sam. Joe locked me in the hall closet, said if I came out I’d only make it worse. I…” Steve takes a shaky breath and presses the knuckle of his fist against his lips. “I had to listen to him beat her and I couldn’t-” His breath hitches, “I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Are you safe now? Is it over, are they asleep?” Sam asks, his voice steady and measured.

“Y-yeah. He drank some more and passed out. My mom let me out. She looked awful, Sam. She wouldn’t listen to me when I told her not to go to sleep. What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t ask yourself that, Steve. I’m getting in my car right now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

Steve swallows, taking comfort in the sound of Sam’s voice and hearing the roar of his engine. He reaches out from where he sits at his mother’s side and checks to see she’s still breathing, as if he could do a damn thing if she wasn’t. He tries not to think about that.

“How close are you?” He asks.

“Passing Foxnest. It’s going to be okay, Steve. Tell me her injuries.”

“Um, okay.” He sits up and switches on the bedside lamp to see better. “She’s got a big bruise down the left side of her face, from cheek to jaw. One black eye and a split lip, um. Probably some bruised ribs, she twitches with every breath — like it hurts. I don’t think he broke anything this time.”

“Where is he?”

“Asleep on the couch. I locked the bedroom door.” 

“Okay, good. I’m pulling onto your street now, you want me to come in through their window?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

Steve stands up and walks to it, holding the phone between cheek and shoulder to unlock it and shove it upwards. Sam’s car turns into their drive and he steps out but doesn’t turn it off. Unease mixes with relief in Steve’s gut. He lets Sam climb in first before burrowing into his arms. 

Sam holds him close without a word, cradling the back of Steve’s head and rubbing his hand up and down his back. Steve doesn’t cry but he wants to, only if he does he might not be able to stop. So he settles for nosing into Sam’s chest and breathing him in. 

“We have to take her to the hospital, Steve. Just to be safe.” He whispers.

“Okay.”

They both walk over and Steve watches Sam bend down and pick her up with ease. He gets the door for them and determinedly ignores how fast his heart beats as they pass through the living room and out the front door.

Sam lays her down in the back and they both climb into the front. Steve reaches across the console to hold the hand he knows Sam’s offering, the hand he’s not too prideful to say he needs. They drive the short distance to the local hospital in silence. Steve doesn’t try to analyze just which emotions are fueling the tension. 

It’s thankfully a slow night and she’s seen fairly quickly. Sam and Steve sit at his mother’s bedside, waiting for her to wake from what the doctors say is a minor concussion. 

“Thank you.” 

Steve sees Sam look over at him from the corner of his eye. His eyebrow’s raised.

“You don’t have to thank me for this.”

“I’m not. I’m thanking God that you’re here.” 

He turns to look at Sam and watches him give a slow smile. He lifts his arm to hang over his shoulders and Steve leans into the touch, grateful for the steadiness it offers.

  
.FIN.


	11. This Angel Goes by Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OTP Prompt: Person A takes a picture of some beautiful scenery while person B takes a picture of them taking a picture. They then argue about who's picture is better. Prompt from Tumblr's otpwhoswho.

“God, Steve, isn’t it beautiful?” Sam asks, clearly in awe.

“Mmhm, stunning.” He agrees, his camera focusing on Sam against the picturesque mountain scenery.

As if reading his mind Sam turns around to give him a playful glare.

“You’re not talking about the view, are you?”

“Well don’t sell yourself short, baby.” Steve coos, sidling up to his boyfriend and wrapping him in a hug. “You are one hell of a view.”

“Yeah, well my picture is better.” Sam says, pulling up the photo on their camera with a pleased smile.

“Maybe in an alternate universe somewhere.”

Steve holds up his phone, his picture of Sam’s broad shoulders and golden brown skin shining in the afternoon sun.

“See, you just got a bunch of trees and a waterfall while I got an  _ angel  _ looking at a bunch of trees and a waterfall.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head, “I’m not an angel, Steve.”

He steps back, “I may not be the most religious person, Sam, but I can’t love someone who believes such sacrilege.” 

Sam snorts and shoves him, “Shut up.”

“For you? Sure.”

 

.FIN.


	12. Sam Wilson Gives You Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My au where people get their wings as soon as they touch their soulmate. Done in a modern setting with no superhero powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first drabble I'd be interested in continuing but in canon verse with Sam and Steve's run in DC. I might do it.

Steve Rogers was never the guy who pictured the exact moment he would first touch his soulmate. That’s not to say it never crossed his mind, he simply didn’t plan out every detail  or let it rule his every thought. But what he does find himself constantly yearning for is flight.

Steve daydreams about the moment just after the first touch, the moment he gains two new limbs in the form of wings. He wonders what they’ll look like, what color they’ll be, how they’ll make him move, how they’ll let him  _ fly _ . He has a growing love for the sky and open air and has developed a sense of restlessness whenever he looks upwards. People always tell him to stop looking up, more now than ever. Just this once he probably should have listened.

He runs smack into someone else’s shoulder and Steve is surprised  _ he  _ isn’t the one to fall to the sidewalk. He briefly wonders if he’ll ever get used to his new size thanks to puberty, but he quickly refocuses his attention to the man he just knocked down. 

Steve kneels and gathers up the scattered books, continuously muttering his apologies and avoiding the other’s disarmingly handsome face. He straightens the textbooks in his arms and holds them out to the stranger as a rather awkward olive branch. 

The man responds with a smile, one that spreads across his face slow and sweet while making Steve’s heart stutter. He reaches out to take his books and their fingers brush in the process, a singular spark emitting from their fingertips and traveling through them like a shock of lightning.

Steve grits his teeth and screams, a sudden instance of pain jarring his spine and shoulder blades before the agony is gone just as soon as it came. His fingers tremble against the concrete and Steve gulps air with ragged gasps, his chest heaving. 

“Oh my God.”

Steve opens his eyes at that, once again finding the handsome stranger and...wings. He looks at the shadows on his left and right, feels the slight weight on his back, the additional sensations like the breeze rustling his feathers. He tries to follow them and manages to raise his wings about an inch. Steve swallows, his mind drawing a blank just in time for the stranger to save him.

“So it looks like we’re stuck together...um, I’d love to get to know you over coffee or something but I’m actually on my way to a job interview so…”

“Can I tag along?” Steve asks, the thought of just leaving with only the man’s number drawing a pit in his stomach.

Thankfully he nods, “If you don’t mind waiting, yeah.” 

They both climb to their feet and smile dopily for a few seconds before introducing themselves.

“I’m Steve, Rogers.”

“Sam Wilson, the job I’m trying to get is at a publishing company as a book editor and it starts in,” He checks his watch and winces, “five minutes so we should probably start running.”

“Copy that.” 

And they take off. 

  
.FIN.


	13. White Henna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives Sam white henna tattoos.

Steve crosses his legs and pulls Sam’s hand into his lap, lifting it to his lips briefly and gazing at him adoringly. Sam smiles and Steve gets to work. 

He squeezes out a nice flower design with the white henna paste, carrying the blossoms down the outside of Sam’s wrists and forearms, up his pointer fingers, only accenting his other digits with swirling patterns resembling leaves and stems. 

Steve turns them over and presses a kiss to each palm before beginning again. He works from the center outwards to build upon a circle with pattern after pattern, all very simple when taken apart but stunning all together. 

Steve looks up at Sam and can tell the other likes it, the way his eyes sparkle and light up looking down at his hands almost as if he’s never seen them before.

“Lay back.” He whispers, not wanting to break whatever spell they’re under.

Sam does as asked and Steve shuffles forward to straddle his hips, the expanse of his beautiful chest laid bare to him. He runs an appraising hand down the center of Sam’s torso, appreciating the strong yet delicate stretches of muscle beneath his touch.

“You’re a work of art, Sam Wilson.”

A laugh bubbles up from the man’s chest, deep and warm. Steve grins and can’t help but kiss him for it, right over where his heart beats the strongest. But then he remembers himself and starts to draw more realistic floral patterns, ones that entwine and flow apart to come back together again. They remind him of patterns he saw on expensive upholstery as a kid, the kind his mother would yearn after in the shop windows and forbid herself from ever going inside. 

Steve’s not sure when Sam falls asleep beneath him, when his chest’s rhythm of rise and fall changes just slightly. He doesn’t do more than stop for a few minutes and marvel at how peaceful he looks. Steve lets himself revel in the feeling of pride and love that swells in his chest, to know that he’s a part of that, if only a little. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it too long though, knows that’s a road that’s just as likely to lead to darkness as it is to send him soaring. 

When Steve finishes some hours later Sam’s completely covered from neck to hips. He looks tribal, beautiful, fortified. A god come to life or a walking temple. Steve stands and stretches, admiring his work and love at once. He covers the designs with plastic wrap to dry and fits himself into Sam’s side. He closes his eyes and prepares to join him in sleep when Sam turns and very purposefully presses his lips to Steve’s temple. Steve’s not entirely sure why the gesture makes his eyes sting, but doesn’t bother to ask himself. He just revels in the gift of Sam’s love and tucks himself ever closer. 

  
.FIN.


	14. Sunny Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a sunny day almost too good to be true

     Steve blinks slowly and watches white clouds pass idly over the clear blue sky. It's a perfect summer day: not too humid with a gentle breeze, the sun high and bright in the sky, singing birds, and barking dogs. It's a day so perfect Steve could almost believe he dreamed it up under layers of ice. He squeezes Sam's hand just in case that's true and sighs when the birds keep singing. 

      "Checking again, huh?" 

      "Yeah, sorry." He says, looking up at Sam from where his head rests on his lap. "It's just hard to believe is all. Isn't it hard for you too sometimes?"

      Sam shrugs and returns his gaze with one just as warm, "Yeah, sometimes." He lifts a hand up and combs it through Steve's growing hair fondly, a smile tucking his lip up, "But with you? Everyday the doubts get harder to believe."

       Steve laughs away the blush that rises to his cheeks and closes his eyes again to feel the sun again.


	15. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are children in an orphanage owned by Sam's mom. Steve has a nightmare and goes to the older boy's room to sleep. Cute cuddles ahead!

It’s too dark in Steve’s room after the nightmare he’s just had. He determinedly pushes down the panic rising in his chest and crawls out of his bed. Even though he knows he’s not alone – he sleeps in a large room with all the other orphans – the thought does nothing to help the fear making his heart beat faster. Snatching his teddy bear and pillow Steve shuffles across the large nursery in his fuzzy socks, heading towards Sam’s room. Sam’s only two years older than him, but at eight he’s the oldest in the house, not to mention Mrs. Wilson’s son by blood and it is Wilson’s Orphanage after all.

Steve ignores the steady butterflies in his stomach and forces himself to climb the stairs, his tiny hand sticky with sweat against the railing. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s six years old – he’s a big boy now and he should be able to sleep alone. And if he really thinks about it he can’t even remember what his nightmare was about, only that it was scary enough to leave him in a cold sweat. Steve squeezes his hand into a small but mighty fist as he comes to face Sam’s bedroom door. Fiddling with the end of his nightgown Steve tries to reason that it’s not too late to turn back and walk down the stairs again – act as if he never thought about this.  _Just be brave, just be brave, just be brave._ Steve raises his hand and squeezes his eyes shut to knock. 

He listens to the dragging of feet behind the closed wooden door and doesn’t look up immediately when it’s finally creaked open. 

“Steve?”

And there’s Sam standing in the doorway, only a head or so taller than him. His brown eyes are tired but clear. Steve blushes ashamedly at the pitiful smile he receives, but Sam only shushes him.

“Had another nightmare, huh? Don’t look like that – it’s fine.” He steps aside and nods his head toward the dark room, “Come on.”

Steve happily shuffles inside, letting Sam take his hand and lead him to his bed in the corner of the room. He feels hands slide against the soft sides of his belly and under his armpits before he’s lifted up onto the bed. Sam slides in next to him and pulls the comforter up to his chin. A few moments pass in silence before Steve whispers, “Can I have your arm?”

Sam stretches out his arm in answer and Steve scoots closer until he’s comfortably curled into Sam’s side. He feels a press of lips to the crown of his head before Sam murmurs, “Goodnight.” 

Fin.


	16. Bubble Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After missions Sam and Steve like to wind down in some steaming hot water. Bubble baths bitches!

Steve sighs tiredly and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He lethargically brings his hands up to unbuckle his helmet before looking around the helicarrier at his fellow team mates and friends who all look a little worse for wear. But at least the mission was a success -- one more Hydra base destroyed and empty of racist bastards.

"Good job, guys. You all looked great out there."

Wanda and Clint give him a tired smile that lacks nothing in sincerity. Sam simply squeezes his hand from where he sits next to him. Steve nods and tugs restlessly at Sam's hand until he gets the hint and climbs onto his lap. The rest of the avengers groan and the two of them just laugh.

"You guys are disgusting, you know that?" Clint says, clearly sneering at them childishly. 

Steve ignores him to pull Sam closer and lean their foreheads together so they breathe the same air. "You good?" He whispers, his gloved hands taking to rubbing smoothing circles up and down his husband's spine. 

"Mmhm. You?"

"Peachy. My side hurts a little though."

Sam winces in sympathy, his brows drawing together in anger a second later, "Yeah, that guy tased you a lot, didn't he? He was probably just excited about his new toy." 

"Yeah well his 'new toy' stung like a bitch." Sam laughs at him, but at least has the decency to look chagrined about it before Steve gives in too, the both of them laughing about it just like any other day.

 

When they get back to the tower both of them decide they're too tired for the drive back to their own place, and so they end up staying in their own floor -- something they very rarely do if either of them can help it. They unspeakingly fall into their same routine, both of them undressing while one of them runs the bath water, as hot as it can go. Only a few moments later it's done and the heroes step into the tub, Sam leaning back against Steve's chest.

They both let out deep sighs of relief at the hot sparkling water, Sam letting his head fall back against Steve's strong shoulder. Steve twines their fingers together beneath the surface of the water and turns his head to press a kiss to Sam's temple. 

"This is nice, huh?" He whispers, reveling in the grounding weight of Sam's body against his own. Sam only moans in response and Steve smiles in answer. "Love you."

"Love you too, Steve. I love baths too."

 


	17. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has to tell Sam some secrets he's really ashamed of, and is scared the news will force Sam to move out or cease being his friend at all.

"Yeah, so what'd you want to talk about, Steve?" Sam asks, coming into the kitchen to sit across from him at the table. 

Steve swallows and feels his cheeks heat while his friend stares at him expectantly -- utterly calm. He clears his throat and tries to wipe his sweaty palms on the rough denim of his jeans. 

"Um...I have a...confession to make."

Sam simply raises an eyebrow dubiously, but otherwise doesn't say a word. Steve clears his throat again and forces himself not to pussyfoot around the situation at hand. 

"Lately I've been...having these, um, inappropriate thoughts about you -- pretty much all the time."

Sam laughs lightly and shrugs his shoulders, "What do you mean by  _inappropriate_ , Steve?"

"Like...fantasies about you and me, Sam. Like dirty...wrong fantasies of you fucking me or vice versa. I tried to ignore them for a while but eventually I just gave in and I'm sorry. I understand if-"

"Steve..." Sam sighs and hangs his head. 

"What?" He asks, growing even more confused when his friend's shoulders start to shake with laughter. Why is he  _laughing?_ "Sam?"

His friend raises his head and reaches across the table to take his hand, his smile warm and shy. "I like you, you big idiot. It's fine. I really appreciate you telling me I turn you on so much -- really helps a guy's self esteem. Plus...it's really sweet of you and brave I guess. But it's fine. I like you. You obviously like me, and now we can finally do something about it, maybe make some of those fantasies come true for you."

Steve swallows and feels the tips of his ears burn at Sam's confession. "Yeah?" He asks timidly, not sure this isn't just some daydream of his.

Sam gives his hand a squeeze and raises his knuckles to his lips in a soft kiss. He strokes the back of his hand with his knuckles, "Yeah."


	18. To Fly Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU where you get your wings once you touch your soulmate. Starts with Steve meeting Sam in the beginning of CATWS.

One of the sole reasons Sam runs at the ass crack of dawn is so he can be alone, or at least feel alone in the big wide world. This morning however he's being trailed by an obnoxiously handsome man who keeps spouting the same crack, "On your left." He briefly entertained the possibility of trying to beat this ridiculous man but dismissed it entirely after watching him run the whole monument course in an extremely short amount of time. No, outrunning this stranger would mean certain death for sure.

He simply grits his teeth and keeps running his  _normal_   _ **human**_ pace all by himself -- completely unperturbed, or at least pretending like he is. After an hour or so of the man's constant ribbing and teasing Sam makes it up in his mind to shove or trip the man the next time he comes round. You know, just for kicks and punishment for being a downright asshole. 

Sam smiles breathlessly as he hears the quick steps behind him before turning and shoving the man with all his might just as he opens his mouth. Caught off guard, the man goes flying left straight into the grass and dirt. Sam can't help himself and laughs himself silly at the blonde's incredulous and confused expression, almost as if he can't believe he actually pushed him. 

Their eyes meet, brown to blue, and slowly the stranger's eyes start to crinkle in a smile and he laughs too. "Guess I kind of deserved that one, huh?"

"I'd say so." Sam pants walking over to grin down at him. "Come on, I'll help you up at least." He says, offering his hand. 

The moment their palms meet an electric shock throbs from the contact and before Sam knows it there's a ripping sound and he's falling forward. They crash together with a couple of yelps, Sam strangely aware of two new limbs he'd never known before. His eyes travel to the other's and he sees the blue eyes are wide and looking just over his shoulder. Sam swallows nervously and turns to look at none other than two tawny wings sprouting from his back. Well damn. 

"Are you...?" Sam asks, his voice trailing off in uncertainty and downright disbelief. 

"I guess so." The man sticks a hand between them, "Steven Grant Rogers, your soulmate."

"Samuel Thomas Wilson, pleasure to meet you."

They share a couple of dopey smiles for a few silent, breathtaking moments before Sam crawls to his feet and pulls Steve up with him. Together they take in the other's wings. Steve's are a pale blue while Sam's are a tawny with a pleasant mixture of reds. Sam smiles, already smitten with Steve as a blush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He scratches the base of hairs at the nape of his neck and avoids his eyes, switching from foot to foot.

"So, um, do you want to...get coffee together?"

"Not really, no." Sam says, laughing when Steve looks up at him in complete surprise and heartbreak. He swats the man's arm, "I'm just kidding, calm down, running man. We're meant to be together -- the hardest part is already over."

Steve nods and smiles, "I think I like you already."


	19. First Kisses and Near Misses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives Sam a scare on a mission and he decides he can't lollygag about this crush he has on Captain America anymore.

They all hear the explosion go off in the quadrant of the Hydra facility Steve was occupying. But Sam  _sees_ it. He sees the explosion of fiery red and orange, the mushroom cloud of black smoke that trails into the air. He ignores Natasha's warning for him to stay away, because, hell, that's his  _partner_ in there. That's his  _everything_. 

Sam flies down to the site of the explosion where fires are dying down. He spots a flash of blue and red in the debris and dives down instantly. If someone asked him how he managed to lift the huge piece of concrete that pinned Steve's right leg down he wouldn't be able to tell them. All he could possibly describe it as would be akin to those huge bursts of adrenaline mothers have when their babies are in trouble, enough strength to lift cars and crumbling buildings. 

Sam slides his arms under Steve's and flies them out of there, not allowing himself to think for a  _minute_ Steve is anything other than slightly battered. Sam flies them back to the rest of the team, paying no mind to the fact Steve's not nearly as heavy as he usually is in his desperate arms. It doesn't matter. He lands on the far hillside, laying Steve down on the ground and taking his goggles off. He unbuckles Steve's helmet and slaps his face a couple of times.

"Steve. You stupid son of a bitch, wake up.  _Steve."_ Sam slaps him one more time, so hard he knows his momma would be proud. Steve's eyelids flutter briefly before a low groan tumbles out of his lips and his blue eyes slowly travel up to meet Sam's. 

"Ow." He winces, looking down at his broken leg and their surrounding teammates. He turns back to Sam and raises a hand to his no doubt stinging cheek, "Did you  _slap_ me?"

"Hell yeah, I did -- twice. Don't scare me like that again, you asshole."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it at the pure hurt in Sam's face. Usually he would kick himself for showing so much emotion in front of everyone, but right now he can't possibly be bothered. He's hurt, and Steve's stupid ass is the reason why.

"You're not invincible, Steve. Don't fucking forget that. If you had died I don' know-" His throat closes up and Sam curses under his breath. He looks away from Steve's surprised gaze. Like he didn't know. 

Steve raises a hand to Sam's cheek, his eyes kind and sorry all at once. "Sam...I'm sorry. I...didn't know."

Sam shakes his head, and silently loathes himself for not being strong enough to lean away from Steve's touch. "Look at me." He lets his eyes travel back to him and his heart crawls its way into his throat. "Come here."

He leans down and Steve's arms wrap around him. Sam presses his nose into the dirtied skin of his neck and breathes in the fresh smell of Steve under soot, smoke, and sweat. "I'm sorry." He whispers, his hand rubbing a reassuring pattern into the middle of his back. 

Sam pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes and his breath hitches when Steve's gaze darts between his lips in a silent inquiry. He must find the answer he's looking for seeing as he strains upwards just an inch and presses their lips together. 

Their mouths are both chapped, Steve's tasting of salty sweat and ash, but his tongue is sweet and skillful as it slips between Sam's lips. They pull away after a few moments of bliss, neither of them forgetting the rest of the team's presence, but honestly not caring. 

"I'll be more careful next time, okay?"

Sam nods.

"I'll have more reason to now."


	20. Necessary Cuddles and Mulan Pajamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole Avengers team gets an eyeful when Tony drags Sam away to work on and talk about the improvements of his wings.

Steve hums in his sleep and rolls over, hoping to get an armful of his lovely boyfriend Sam but instead coming to find only empty sheets. Well, that's not right. He cracks an eye open and finds their bed is in fact empty of any sexy black man. He purses his lips as anger boils in the pit of his stomach. Steve swings the covers off and shuffles across to the elevator in his socks, grumbling all the while. 

He presses the button for Tony's and Rhodey's floor, somehow knowing Tony Stark is the only man daring enough to take away his Sam in the early morning hours. Steve squints against the flourescent lights as he walks into the lab, spotting Sam standing next to Tony and the rest of the team. 

"Oh, and the beast awakens. Morning, Cap."

"Don't morning me. You have something I believe is  _mine_." Steve bites back, walking over to clamp his hand around Sam's wrist and drag him back to their floor.

"And just where are you going with  _your_ Sam?"

"Back to bed, dumb ass. I want to cuddle. Plus, who gets up at six AM on a fucking Saturday?"

"Good point. Nice disney pajamas by the way, that Mulan?"

Steve tugs Sam into the elevator and slams his fist against the button for their floor, ignoring the look Sam's giving him out the corner of his eye. After a few moments he bites. "What?"

"You miss me, huh?"

"The bed's cold without you there. Plus, the weekends are the only two days I let myself sleep in. Whatever Tony needs you for can wait after I get my morning cuddles."

Steve blushes when Sam pulls him into his arms, kissing his nose before taking his lips sweetly, his hand curling against his lower back and pulling him snug against his chest. Steve bites back a protesting whine when Sam pulls away, forcing himself not to follow weakly after his lips. 

"You're cute, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do, someone seems to tell me I am all the time. I call little spoon, alright?"


	21. Late Nights and Frosted Flakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve occasionally has a hard time going to sleep at night.

_"Steve!"_

Steve flinches and nearly drops his bowl of cereal at the call of his name. He winces as Sam's footsteps come down the hallway and his husband steps into the kitchen, bleary eyed and angry. 

"Uh...hey honey." 

Sam scoffs at him before sitting down on their table top. "Don't 'hey honey' me. What are you doing up at two in the morning, Steve? Making me sleep alone in a King sized bed is downright betrayal in a marriage. What's the point in marrying someone if you still sleep alone?" 

Steve laughs, shoveling another spoonful of Frosted Flakes into his mouth to avoid answering. 

"Really? You're just gonna keep eating your sugared corn flakes like I'm not here?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I didn't want to wake you too." Steve answers, quickly finishing his bowl and draining the sweet leftover milk. 

Sam immediately takes the bowl out of his hands when he's done and dumps it in the sink before grabbing his hand and leading him back to their master bedroom. He pulls him back into bed and wraps him up in his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of Steve's neck and making a blush spread over his skin. 

"Now try to go back to sleep, okay?" Sam whispers, kissing him again. "We have a big day of doing nothing tomorrow. You don't want to be too tired to enjoy it."

Steve smiles and pulls his husband's arms tighter around him, happy to try to visit the sandman once again.


	22. Looney Tunes and Spooning

"I just recorded a marathon of Looney Tunes, you wanna come over?" 

Steve rolls out of bed and grabs his car keys, as if he would ever turn down an opportunity to hang out with Sam. "Yeah, sure, as long as I get to cuddle you I'm down."

"Then get over here. I'm making popcorn."

Steve doesn't even bother changing into real clothes, simply driving over to Sam's place in his boxers and a worn sweatshirt he borrowed from Sam himself. He jogs up the front steps to find the door unlocked and lets himself in, locking the door behind him. 

Sam smiles at him from the living room couch, a bowl of popcorn on his lap along with several blankets. Steve's heart flutters happily in his chest and he forces himself to calmly walk over instead of running like an excited puppy. Sam lifts one end of the blanket and Steve happily snuggles in behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and pulling him back so there's not a breath of space between them. He timidly presses a kiss to the back of Sam's neck and smiles happily.

"You enjoying yourself back there?" Sam asks, his voice light and amused. Steve simply hums in response as Sam presses play and the Warner Bros. logo comes onto the screen followed by Bugs Bunny.

"I should probably warn you I might pop a boner at any time and you should probably just ignore it."

Sam laughs at his confession and jokes, "I already have one dude, it's fine. Bugs Bunny's pretty hot when you think about it."

Steve laughs, "That's disgusting, please tell me you're not a furry."

"Seems like someone's been doing some research if you know what a furry is."

"I was watching a stand up routine and there was a joke I didn't understand. Thanks for calling it "research" by the way."

"Any time." Sam replies, shuffling back so his ass is in the cradle of Steve's hips and making him swallow shallowly. Steve only holds him tighter and breathes him in. It's going to be a good morning.


	23. Howling at the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a werewolf and it's a full moon!

Steve curls up on the couch and amusingly watches his boyfriend skitter about their apartment preparing for tonight. It's like this every full moon ever since Steve's known about Sam's little werewolf secret. The other man finally stops in front of him and levels him with a serious stare that Steve mocks completely.

"Okay. I'm gonna go now. Lock the doors and all that, be safe, blah-blah-blah, see you in the morning." Sam says, leaning down to give Steve one last kiss before he's out the door. 

Steve rolls his eyes before standing up and stepping out of the apartment a few moments later, making his way to the grocery store. Unbeknownst to Sam every time there's a full moon he always ends up coming back to the apartment anyway. Steve's actually pretty close to the wolf side of his boyfriend -- they get along extremely well. 

Steve idly walks to the meat section, filling a basket with raw steak and beef before making his way to check out. It's a quick trip he makes every full moon ever since Sam started to come back to him before the night's end. Otherwise he would get hungry and start making a fuss about everything. He never threatened to hurt Steve, but he was a little too loud for their neighbors. 

Steve stops when he sees the wolf already sitting on their front steps, his tail beating the pavement as soon a he catches sight of Steve. Steve can't help but smile at how beautiful Sam is an all his forms. His coat is a rich dark brown and his eyes are a piercing yellow. Steve unlocks their front door and Sam bounds in ahead of him, jumping up onto the sofa and seemingly smiling at him. It's gonna be a long night.


	24. Magic Between the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a satyr who falls in love with Sam, a lonely lumberjack.

The first time Sam sees him he thinks it's a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and a lack of human interaction. Of course the next morning Sam sees the creature again, peeking its head out behind some trees and openly staring at him curiously -- as if  _he_ was the mythical being. Its bright blue eyes are piercing and hopelessly curious, it's head covered in a mop of blonde hair and two unmistakable antlers protruding from it. They're long, swirling and beautiful even from afar and Sam can't help but stare back as if in a trance.

Before long the thing seems to blush suddenly before running away, disappearing back into the trees. The next morning Sam finds various fruits left on his porch along with a bouquet of wild flowers. He picks up the strangely endearing care package and goes back into his cabin, touched and amused. A few days past with the same routine -- more flowers and more fruits until one day his porch is strangely empty. Sam tries not to worry about it which is harder to do without work to distract him. The steady rain outside proves any work pointless. He'll just have to wait for tomorrow. 

A few hours past with Sam drinking tea and reading his shelf of books before he hears a light scratching at the front of his house. He puts down his mug and novel and walks to his front door to find the strange creature soaking wet and looking miserably through the screen door. Sam slowly opens the door and the thing mewls like a hurt kitten before limping forward. His eyes trail down to the blood matting the fur of his calf and Sam wordlessly steps aside, nodding his head inside and watching the creature limp into his front room. 

Sam sets out a couple of towels and grabs a wash cloth and rubbing alcohol to go about cleaning the cut. The creature sits silently and watches him for a while, his eyes expressive but giving away nothing. Sam watches it swallow a few times before opening its mouth.

"I. Am. Steve."

Sam's eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the jilted yet clear English. "You can speak?"

It- Steve, nods his head, droplets flying out of his hair at the motion. "I was not always animal. I used to be man -- a man, like you."

"How'd you get like this then?" Sam asks, coming to sit in front of him and set about fixing him up. 

"I always knew it would happen. It's a family curse really."

Sam hums and pours the rubbing alcohol on the bite in Steve's calf, making him suck in a breath of pain at the sting. "Who bit you?"

"A wild boar. He wanted the fruits I was trying to get for you. That's why I couldn't give you anything today. Sorry."

"It's fine. Why do you leave those by the way?" Sam asks, beginning to stitch up Steve's wounds. 

His blue eyes watch his hands attentively and he blushes before whispering, "You always offer gifts to potential mates."

Sam coughs when his breath sticks in his throat, "Oh. Potential mates, huh?"

"Yes. What is your name?"

"Oh, um, Sam. Sam Wilson."

"Thank you, Sam." Steve replies, smiling as if his lips aren't used to the action. When Sam finishes Steve nervously takes his hand before ducking in to lay a kiss on his lips. He tastes of salt and spring, rich and more natural than anything Sam can think of for comparison. 

Steve pulls back nervously and Sam smiles at him before drawing a hand to his jaw and kissing him again. 

"Why don't you stay for awhile, hm?"

"I'd like that."


	25. Cake Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cake tasting and marriage proposals based off my own tumblr post about this very event.

"Let me get this straight, you want us to pretend to be engaged just to get some free cake samples." Sam says.

Steve nods, completely nonplussed. "Yeah."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you, let's go." 

Steve laughs as Sam takes his hand and leads them into the homely bakery. Sam lets Steve take care of everything, only holding onto his arm and batting his lashes adoringly every few seconds to sell the shtick. Steve jokes he doesn't even have to change what he normally does and Sam shoves him in retaliation. The chef leads them to a back room and brings them an assortment of cakes. 

Sam scratches his head at why Steve suddenly looks so nervous, as if he suddenly realized he has a long lasting hatred of delicious pastries and feels uncomfortable.

"Hey," He says, touching his arm gently so his boyfriend looks at him, "You okay?"

"Yeah, um." He nervously runs his hands up and down his thighs before asking, "Your favorite is still red velvet with cream cheese frosting, right?"

"Uh...yeah."

Steve lets out a breath he seemed to be holding and after that he strangely calms down. Sam doesn't say anything of it. "Do you want to start from the left or from the right?"

"The left." 

Sam nods and forks off a piece of a dark forest cake before turning and feeding the portion to a shocked Steve. He smiles at his colored cheeks and Steve groans when he takes a bite. 

"That's great, Sam, try that one." 

Steve waits patiently until he does and nods when Sam groans too. "Right? That's almost too rich."

"Yeah, almost."

The further they get down the lineup the more nervous Steve becomes just as they arrive at the last cake -- Sam's favorite. Steve cuts him off a piece and feeds it to him before letting Sam have the rest. Sam's just about to ask what has Steve so nervous before his fork finds resistance in the cake and he looks down. 

Sam gasps at the gold band intercepting the tine of his fork and looks back at Steve. He smiles nervously at him, his cheeks a burning scarlet as he watches him. 

"Sam." He laughs nervously -- something Sam's always found incredibly endearing, "Will you marry me?"

"You put my ring in my favorite cake." Sam can't believe his eyes are prickling. "That is amazing. Oh my gosh, of course I will, Steve. Damn. Like there's a chance I could ever say no to you."

"Well, I guess that's a good thing. Now we gotta pick one of these cakes."

Sam shakes his head, putting the cake down before cupping Steve's face in his hands and kissing him nice and slow, the cream cheese frosting spreading between them like a sweet bridge. 


	26. Magic Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 100% necessary stripper AU because would this be a proper drabble series without it

Sam doesn't really know what to expect having never gone to a strip club before. He's had no reason to -- he's not getting married, none of his friends have gotten married, and he's not a sad middle aged man with a drinking problem so, no strip clubs for him. Of course he's never really seen this lack of education to be a particular problem until he started hanging out with Ororo. She said that everyone should go to a strip club at least once, it's adult fun. And once Ororo got something on her mind she was  _not_ one to be deterred, so Sam simply indulges her, allowing her to drag him to a gentlemen's club. 

They enter the joint at seven o'clock on a Tuesday and Sam's surprised to see it so full of men  _and_ women. Don't these people have families to go home to or something? 

"Come on, I'll show you my favorite. You're going to  _love_ him." Ororo exclaims, ecstatically dragging him through the low-lit room until they're square in front of the stage. 

"His set comes up in a few minutes. You should probably have a drink or two," She waves her shoulders up and down, "loosen up a bit."

"Fine." Sam raises his hand and one of the waiters comes along to take his order. "Chocolate martini, please." Sam shakes his head, loosely disbelieving he's even here and going along with Storm's plan. 

"You know, this is crazy. What makes you think I'm gonna like the guy anyway?" He yells over the music, disinterestedly watching the current man on stage.

 _"Everyone_ loves Steve. He's perfect. A real catch, and he tap dances when the elderly home visits."

Sam splutters, nearly spitting out his ordered martini, "An  _elderly_ home visits a gentlemen's club?"

"What? It's not like after 60 a vagina disappears. You should come on Sundays when they're here -- Ruth is a  _riot_."

"I can't believe we're friends sometimes."

"I know, I'm  _way_ too cool for you." 

"That's  _not_ how I would put it."

After that Storm won't let him say another word, because the lights go down and then her blessed Steve is on the stage. And well, Sam can say he easily sees why he's her favorite. The man is like a real-life Adonis -- all muscles under creamy white skin and bright blue eyes with a head of blonde hair. He smiles at the riotous applause he receives and bows before doing a death drop to the floor. 

"Oh!" Sam shouts in surprise, watching enthralled as Steve grinds his way across the stage until he's right in front of him. It might just be Sam's wistful imagination but Steve's eyes widen when he catches sight of him and he falters for a second before getting back up and making his way to a pole. He twirls around it gracefully before pulling his legs off so his body is sideways, holding himself with his arms and making the whole house fawn over him. 

Sam watches the routine pretty closely. There's a whole lot of grinding mixed in with actual choreography, plus twerking galore, which Steve is surprisingly good at. It's kind of off-putting  _how_ good he is. No man should be able to twerk like that, it's insane. 

Ororo leans over to him and shouts, "Now it's time for him to pick a lucky bystander to give a lap dance to, and I think he was making some eyes at you, Sammy!" 

He's about to tell her to shut the fuck up and not to get his hopes up when suddenly Steve is hopping right off the stage and grabbing him by the shoulders. 

"Oh- Okay!" Sam sputters as Steve rolls his hips forward, practically shoving his junk in Sam's face in it's tiny little red, white, and blue speedo. Sam places his hands on the dancer's hips as he grinds their crotches together, a dangerous smirk on his face, a delighted twinkle in his eyes. 

The crowd hoots and cheers around him when Steve turns around to shake his ass, reaching back to grab Sam's head and hold him close as his body moves in an elegant wave. Part of Sam is just happy to experience this and the other half is upset he's not in control right now. 

Steve turns back around and sits on his lap. Sam tightens his hands on his hips and leans forward to plant a short kiss on him. When Sam pulls away he laughs. Steve's blushing prettily, his eyes wide and obviously shocked at the kiss. His fingers lightly graze across his own lips before he stands back up and climbs back on stage, giving a final bow before scurrying behind the curtain. 

Ororo swats him playfully, looking dangerously thrilled. "You're not supposed to  _kiss_ him, dumbass!"

"What? All that and you didn't think the man deserved a little lovin'?" Sam jokes, he doesn't regret his decision in the slightest, especially if it made a stripper blush!

A few minutes later they're preparing to leave when someone shouts, "Wait!"

Sam and Storm turn around to see none other than Steve rushing towards them, his body now covered up in a modest silk robe, a blush still dusting his perfectly sculpted cheeks.

"Um...I've never seen you here before, your friend's a regular, but, uh... I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go out sometime. Not many people are okay with the whole," He waves his hands, "dating a stripper thing, so I understand if you don't want to but-"

"I would love to, gotta make you blush like that more often. I'd love to see you red in other places too." 

Sam smiles when Steve flushes again like clock work, looking shyly at the ground and laughing. "Man, you'd think for a stripper you'd be less innocent. Here's my number, Steve. Call me when you can, okay?"

Sam writes his number along with his name on a napkin and hands it to him with a smile before turning to go.

"Wait, uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?" 

Steve's entire face is red along with the tips of his ears and he fiddles with the napkin in his hand. "Do you think you could kiss me again?" 

Sam's heart falls at his sincerity. "Storm, go wait for me in the car, this might be awhile."

"Wait for you in the car, hoe, I'mma get myself a private dance."

Sam smiles before stepping forward and taking Steve's face in his hands and leaning down to take his lips again. Steve's breath stutters and he whimpers when their tongues slide together, Sam's hands coming up to hold his waist and pull him in tight. Steve kisses nothing like he dances, from kissing him Sam would never know he was a stripper. He kisses like it's his first time -- like he's never done it before and isn't at all sure about what to do. It's more endearing than it has any right to be.

Sam pulls away and tries not to smile when Steve whines and tries to chase his lips.

"You think we could get one of those private rooms?" Sam asks.

Steve nods eagerly, his lips pulling up into a blinding smile.


	27. Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenagers gettin' a little frisky at Steve's house when his dads Charles and Erik are gone.

If Sam had been told earlier that Steve's parents weren't home he'd be much less confused when Steve shoved him onto the living room couch and started kissing him senseless. He was straddling him and kissing him hard and passionately, his hands trying to touch too much of Sam all at once and making him feel  _very_ wanted. 

"Wait, Steve." Sam manages to tear his mouth away, ignoring Steve's whine of protest and asking, "What are you doing?"

"My dads aren't home, Sam. You know how  _rare_ that is? Last year they even staid in for their own fucking anniversary. Now, come on, let me kiss you already." Steve whines, grinning when Sam finally lays back again.

Steve dives in for another kiss, moaning as he opens his mouth to him and desperately grinding his needy erection into Sam's thigh. Sam lets his hands travel over to Steve's tiny, but firm little backside, squeezing the cheeks in his palms and making Steve squeak cutely. He grins and begins pulling Steve down against him, making his boyfriend let out these little mewls at the friction. 

It's really a shame when the front door opens a few moments later cause Sam could tell Steve was getting close -- the little pants he was making and the way he sighed Sam's name. Steve jumps up and grabs Sam's hand, rushing them both out of the room and up the stairs before they're caught. The minute they're safe behind Steve's bedroom door the two burst into giggles.


	28. Toxic Car Washes and Window Peeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is Steve and Bucky's hot next door neighbor in their apartment complex and today is Steve's lucky day cause he's washing his car to some lovely Britney Spears.

"Bucky, shut the fuck up, the hot neighbor is outside. Oh my god, he's gonna wash his car. I've been blessed by the Gods, they have looked down upon me with grace in their eyes and benevolence in their hearts -- he's wearing booty shorts, this could not be a better fantasy."

Steve shakes his head and continues to peep through their blinds at their black neighbor who's testing the water briefly. He elbows Bucky away from his spot and keeps watching until Sam turns on his radio and gets to work. 

Part of Steve knows it's really _really_ wrong to watch a man unknowingly but another part of Steve is currently tenting his track pants and Steve kinda cares more about the one than the other right now. He watches as Sam power washes his car before wiping down, reaching up on his tip toes to get the hood and unintentionally giving a perfect view of his ass in those little red shorts.

Steve lets out an audible groan at the sight and silently declares red booty shorts should be illegal weapons of mass destruction in the hands of a man as handsome and sexy as his neighbor Sam Wilson is. 

"Steve, let me see!" Bucky shouts, shoving him away from the window.

"No! Last time I liked a dude, you stole him from me, remember? Sam is  _all mine._ "

"Okay, I get it, just let me see."

Steve finally relents enough to lend Bucky half his window before returning his full attention to their unaware performer. Sam suddenly stops cleaning and "whoops" before turning the radio up. Steve smiles to himself as Britney Spear's "Toxic" blasts from its speakers. 

Invigorated, Sam spins around his car before using his sponge as a microphone and lip syncing the opening words perfectly. Bucky smacks Steve in the shoulder incredulously as they burst into surprised laughter, watching their neighbor put on quite a show. He knows all the words and even has some dance moves to go with them and Steve is starting to get mighty uncomfortable the more and more he drops it likes it hot. And boy, is it hot. After the song ends Steve feels too strange to simply carry on watching the man and ignoring Bucky's protests, walks out to finally talk to him.

Sam smiles at him when he approaches and Steve feels his cheeks burn in answer as he waves a hand. "Hey."

"Hey, I didn't know I was putting on a show." He jokes, and Steve would freak out if his eyes weren't so light and flirtatious.

He laughs and scratches the back of his head, "Yeah, sorry about that. Those shorts are  _really_ entertaining."

"Just the shorts, huh?"

"Well," He nods and makes a point of looking Sam up and down in interest, "More than the shorts."

Sam winks at him before nodding his head to the car, "You wanna help me out here? It's the least you could do after ogling me for ten solid minutes."

"Yeah, I know. Name's Steve by the way."

"Trust me, I know who you are. Been crushing on you for weeks, man. Glad we could finally meet."

Steve smiles at that, taking a wash cloth and getting to work.


	29. The Deaging Debacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda accidentally hits Steve with her magic during practice and de-ages him temporarily to the tender age of four. Sam agrees to take care of his now tiny husband.

"Oh, crabcakes." Wanda whispers, her and the rest of the team staring down at Sam's now much tinier spouse. Steve stands drowning in his Captain America suit, staring up at them from under a floppy mound of blonde hair with big blue eyes.

Sam tisks when Wanda starts to giggle uncontrollably, "He's so  _cute!_ "

"Yeah, for now, you're not the one who's going to end up taking care of him." Sam bites back, kneeling and being taken aback when Steve immediately shuffles over to him on wobbly legs. He throws his arms around him and laughs when Sam stands back up, his arm tucked safely under his husband's tiny little butt. 

"I guess we'll have to get Tony to undo this, or maybe call that Strange guy, I don't know -- just figure it out. I'm gonna be on babysitting duty."

"I'm not a baby!" Steve exclaims at that, pulling his blonde little eyebrows down to glare at Sam seriously.

Sam boops his nose and walks them back to their floor, muttering, "Why of course not,  _that_ would be much worse." 

Once on their floor Sam wrangles Steve out of his too large uniform before dressing him in one of the shirts Steve stole from him when he was a grown man. It drapes over him like a night gown, the hem nearly dragging the floor and the shoulder seams falling almost to his elbows. Steve pushes up the sleeves happily as if he can't imagine a thing is wrong at the moment, and beams up at Sam like he should get a cookie for this inspiring innovation.

"Yeah, very impressive, kid. You hungry? I make a nice sandwich."

"Okay, Sam. BLT, please." 

Sam pauses on his way to the kitchen and raises an eyebrow, pointing to himself, "You know my name?"

Steve cocks his head like a dog, "Mmhm, why wouldn't I? Everyone should know the name of the love of their life." 

Sam chokes on his own spit and sputters, smiling goofily, "The love of their life?"

"Yep. We're married aren't we? All I know is when two people love each other they get married, so we must be married right?" Steve looks up at him blankly and after a moment of silence a dark cloud descends upon his features and his lip starts to quiver, tears pooling in his bright blue eyes.

"Unless...you don't love me back. You-" He swallows the lump in his throat and starts wringing his hands together, "You love me back, don't you Sam?"

"Of course I do, Steve, don't be silly. And you're right, we are married, happily for a few years now." 

"Oh, okay." He nods decidedly at that, as if the topic is closed and properly settled, wiping his tears away with the sleeves of his shirt pulled up over his little fists. 

Sam lifts Steve up so he can sit at the kitchen island while he makes his sandwich. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. I just thought it was strange how much you remember things. I thought you wouldn't have any memories of me or the life we have."

"I remember all sorts of things, Sam. I remember how I proposed to you and our first kiss, and when I first said I love you. I remember everything really!" He shouts, proud of himself and excited to share this revelation. 

"Oh. Well, okay then." Sam replies, finishing up with his sandwich and sliding it over on a plate with a glass of water. Steve wolfs it all down quickly just like he was more than two hundred pounds and Sam's full sized husband. 

The day passes quickly after that -- Steve never leaving Sam's side and never letting go of his hand. He occasionally does something so mature Sam is shocked and slightly startled by the action. Like the way he brushes his knuckles over the back of his palm just like Steve would, or moves Sam's hand to his lips for a quick kiss to the smooth skin. It reminds him so much of Steve that it sort of freaks him out. 

When the day is done Steve refuses to sleep anywhere but with Sam and he really can't think of any reason to say  _no_ to the kid. Especially when it seems like if he does Steve will immediately burst into a shuddering fit of tears. So they sleep together in their own bed with Steve curled into Sam's chest, one tiny hand fisted in his sweatshirt with the other one curled into his mouth. 

In the morning Sam finds himself spooned by grown man who snores peacefully into the nape of his neck. He smiles at the memory of a young Steve, his chest oddly hurting at not being able to say a proper goodbye.


	30. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for M-preg and accidental bed wetting ahead. Steve is pregnant and has an accident in bed while he's sleeping. He's very embarrassed but his husband reassures him he has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Steve wakes up to a puddle of wetness and feels his stomach drop. "Oh no." He whispers, slowly sitting up and feeling under his round belly at his own soaked pajama bottoms and the damp sheets. He curses under his breath and feels hot tears of embarrassment sting his eyes when Sam suddenly stirs next to him, rolling over and turning the bedside lamp on. 

Steve tries to bite his bottom lip to stop its trembling and hates himself even more for crying over it. He can't even look his husband in the eyes as he sits up next to him and rubs his eyes.

"What's wrong, baby? You okay?"

"I did it again." Steve whispers, looking angrily at his soiled lap and determinedly avoiding Sam's gaze though he can feel it trained on the side of his face. 

"Oh, baby, don't cry. It's fine --  _you're_ fine okay? You're a pregnant man doing something your body should not  _dare_ be capable of, but because of the serum, somehow is. Don't worry about this. It's not your fault -- not everything is gonna be perfect, okay?"

"But I went to the bathroom before bed and everything this time, Sam, and it  _still_ happened. I just-" Steve's voice dies as his throat closes and he hangs his head in his hands. He feels Sam shuffle closer until he's being hugged into his husband's side, his hands rubbing his sides soothingly.

"Hey, hey, hey," He whispers, "It's alright. I'm not ashamed of you, I'm not disappointed, I'm amazed you can do this at all. You're golden, Stevie." Sam kisses his cheek sweetly.

"I just feel so... _embarrassed_ , Sam. I'm a grown man wetting his bed."

"You're also a  _pregnant_ grown man. Give yourself a break, come on, let's get you out of this mess." Sam whispers, pulling him up and leading them to the bathroom. 

Steve drops down onto the toilet and laughs weakly when Sam kisses him on the forehead lovingly. "I'm gonna go clean the sheets, okay? Don't you worry about a thing, baby." 

Steve nods, feeling another wave of tears at Sam's overwhelmingly supportive treatment. The man's been nothing but a dream in their unimaginable situation, it's hard to believe Sam was just as blindsided at Steve's ability to get pregnant as he himself was. Steve rests on the toilet seat and watches Sam strip off the sheets and duvet and carry the bundle into their laundry room before returning with freshly washed ones. 

"I'm sorry." He says. 

"Don't apologize, baby. You didn't do anything wrong. I think we both know you wouldn't wet the bed on  _purpose._ " Sam jokes, smiling at him when Steve laughs. 

Sam leaves again and returns with a new maternity gown big enough for Steve's round stomach. He walks into the bathroom and Steve leans on him as Sam pulls down his pajama bottoms and he steps out of them, raising his arms for Sam to slip the gown over his head. 

When he's dressed Steve heaves a long sigh and squeaks unexpectedly when Sam jerks him close by the waist. Sam leans in to give him a filthy kiss, his hand taking a generous palm full of his ass and making Steve groan against his lips. It still surprises him when Sam shows his desire for him -- even seven weeks pregnant with a beach ball where his abs usually are. 

"Now let's get back to bed, baby, okay?"

"What if I wet it again?" Steve asks, trying to be teasing but letting the fear slip into his voice.

"We have plenty of sheets and my military corners are to die for." Sam replies, slapping his ass and shoving him out the bathroom. 

Steve laughs when he chases him back to bed.


	31. Titties Titties Titties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a small obsession with Steve's titties after he loses a bet.

The first day wasn't even over yet and Steve was already extremely regretful of ever taking Sam's bet in the first place. He must have just gotten lucky the first time he bested Sam at pool because yesterday he was devastatingly crushed three out of three and now had to play the price which was dealing with the fact Sam could come up and squeeze his chest at any moment in the day. 

It didn't matter if they were in the middle of a fire fight or if Steve was addressing his fellow Avengers as Captain America, Sam could simply sneak up behind him and give a playful squeeze as if nothing was wrong. Steve initially thought the challenge was ridiculous fun, but that was also when he thought he wouldn't  _lose_. 

Steve's in the middle of a conversation with Rhodey -- one of their first  _civilized_ conversations since the mess with the Accords when Sam promptly sneaks up behind him, reaches his hands out, and squeezes both his pecs with a teasing smile. Steve watches Rhodey's stunned face in silent trepidation before the man bursts into laughter and Steve walks away, no one can come back from something like that. 

The second time happens in a fucking mission debriefing because Sam  _and_ the Falcon have no goddamn shame. The whole team can't take him seriously after that and Natasha swiftly takes over while Steve fusses out his giggling boyfriend in the corner like some infant. 

The last straw happens at a very professional celebrity pride gala while Steve is answering questions on  _live television_ when Sam seriously comes up only to squeeze his chest once and give him a polite kiss on the cheek. 

"SAM!" Steve shouts after the man's retreating back before addressing the shocked newswoman. "That's my boyfriend, Sam. He's very fond of my chest. I," He shakes his head and runs an exasperated hand over his mouth in lieu of a response. "I really can't say much more than I lost an unfortunate bet at pool."


	32. Swallowed Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve have a fight that results in Sam leaving the apartment for a walk which Steve mistakenly thinks is forever, leading to him calling Sam whilst hysterically crying.

Anyone who's ever met Steven Grant Rogers would tell you he's a stubborn son of a bitch with pride rivaling that of Kanye West, and they'd be correct, except when it came to Samuel Thomas Wilson, then they would be dead wrong. Because despite popular opinion Steve knows a good thing when he sees it, knows a  _great_ thing when he feels it, and loves Sam more than anyone he's ever met in his life. 

It's starting to get dark outside, about three hours after Sam stormed out of their apartment after a fight. Steve vaguely remembers it being something about him being too reckless on missions plus lying to Sam about going to his therapist appointments. It was a shit storm of every little thing Steve's ever done that ever slightly rubbed Sam the wrong way and was terrible -- the first real fight they've ever had, and at three hours gone, also the longest. At this point Steve's freaking out all alone and wishing more than ever he could get drunk just to forget everything. 

After the thought crosses his mind Sam may never be coming back Steve panics and gives him a call. He doesn't realize how close to tears he is until Sam picks up and he has to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Sam, I'm so sorry I lied to you about the sessions, okay? And I promise I'll be more careful on missions if you just-" His voice breaks and his tears stain his cheeks, Steve bites the knuckles of his fist before forcing himself to continue, "Just, Sam,  _please_ come back. I'm so  _so_ sorry, baby, please. I'm sorry. I can't say it enough. The fight was stupid and I never should have lied to you and I apologize for that but I can't-" Steve sucks in a few shaky breaths like rapid fire, "I can't imagine a life without you so please,  _please_ come back home. I miss you and I don't want to go to sleep mad at you. I don't want to fall asleep alone when I haven't had to for the last five years. Please, Sam." 

Steve's lip falls out from between his teeth and he starts crying in earnest, barely hearing Sam on the other end start to freak out in response. 

"Steve, Steve, it's fine. I'm coming back. I just went out for a drink. I'm coming over right now, okay? Just stop crying for me, alright? I didn't mean to scare you like that." He says, his voice soft and sincere.

Steve nods his head before realizing Sam can't see him, "Uh-huh. I-I'm s-sorry. I just thought you left me. I was so scared, I didn't think I would be so scared but I really love you and I don't think that's ever going to change."

"I'm almost there, baby, don't worry. I'm sorry too."

Steve just listens to Sam's hurried footfalls before he hears them bounding up the stairs just before the door opens. Sam's hand with his phone falls back to his side and he frowns sympathetically at Steve curled up on the kitchen floor next to the fucking landline they never removed. 

He walks over and slides between him and the wall, hugging him to his chest and resting his nose against the crown of Steve's head. Sam wipes the tears from his face with a smile and Steve returns a shaky one of his own before grabbing his arms and pulling them tighter around him.

"Let's never fight again." He pouts, making Sam throw his head back and laugh.

"I'm serious, Sam. Why are you laughing?!"


	33. What A Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's daughter runs up to Sam in the cereal aisle to tell him her Pop-pop thinks he's cute. Prompt from the Tumblr otp prompts for you.

Sam scans the shelves for Captain Crunch when there's a firm tugging at the hem of his sweater. Sam grabs his jumbo family-sized box of cereal and throws it in his cart before looking down at a little girl with big blue eyes, a button nose, and short cropped strawberry blonde hair.

"My Pop-pop thinks you're cute. Well, his words exactly were  _bea_ -tiful." She says, smiling up at him brightly before turning to point at a man further down the aisle, furiously hiding his face behind a box of Cocoa Puffs. 

"Oh really? Well how about you go tell him to come say hi and we'll start from there?" Sam asks, making her grin brighter before skipping back to her dad. 

Sam watches amusedly as they have a very animated conversation, the little girl violently pointing back at him while her father repeatedly shakes his head. Finally she huffs and stomps her foot before grabbing his hand and literally dragging him over. 

Sam frowns at first, this "Pop-pop" has  _no_ reason to be embarrassed walking around like some Greek Adonis. His eyes are bluer than his daughter's, his hair a fair blonde. He comes to a stop in front of him and gives a pointed glare at his daughter before smiling and sticking out his hand.

"Um, hi, I'm Steve. This is Margie. Sorry about distracting you from your," He gestures to his cart, "Captain Crunch."

"No, it's fine. I like being told I'm  _bea-_ tiful." He replies, smiling at Steve's responding blush. 

He quickly looks down at his daughter and they have some silent conversation she ends with a helpless shrug. Steve shakes his head again.

"Uh, so would you like to join us in a walk in the park later? Margie and I don't mind the company, right, sweetie?"

"Right!" She affirms, nodding eagerly at Sam.

"Sure. I'd like that. Let me just give you my number. I have to go home and put my icecream up, but just give me a call when you're ready to go, alright?" Sam says, ripping off a piece of his grocery list and quickly scrawling his number across it.

"Perfect. Thanks." Steve says, perking up as he takes the slip of paper like it's the long secret killer of JFK. 

Sam leans in and gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek, stunning Steve into silence while his daughter squeals and excitedly claps her hands.

"See you soon, Steve." He gives a nod, "Margie."

As he's leaving he hears her say, "See, you wouldn't have his number if I actually  _listened_ to you."

"That's not the point, hun."

"Isn't it though?"

Sam laughs, what a pair. 


	34. Accidental Peeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve accidentally sees Sam naked while they're on their search for Bucky and has no idea what to do about it.

It makes sense that Sam had the bathroom door open -- he thought Steve would be gone longer, that's what Steve  _told_ him, until he changed his mind and came back to the motel room. He walks straight to the bed which is adjacent to the bathroom, turns his head and well, there's his best friend in all his naked glory. And it really is naked glory. 

Steve's jaw opens wordlessly at Sam's dark brown skin, glistening and wet from his shower, the muscles of his body well defined from hard work. His heart beats faster within the chamber of his chest as the strength is so loudly echoed from his friend's body. Then he turns around and well, Steve can't really tear his eyes away even if his friend suddenly turned into Medusa. 

Sam jumps back a bit when he sees him before giving a relieved laugh. Steve tries to control his face and not let it be known that he was ogling him so obviously, but with the tent in his pants he's pretty sure it's a little pointless and utterly futile.

He shakes his head and raises a hand, looking down guiltily, "I'm sorry, Sam. I should've said I was here. You couldn't hear me enter over the music and -- yeah."

"Hey, it's fine, man -- nothing you haven't seen before, right?" Sam replies, toweling himself down easily, still ridiculously nude. 

Steve snorts, he  _wishes_ it was a sight he'd seen before. If someone had shown him a snapshot of that body back in WWII with the promise he might see it in person later he would have  _nosedived_ that damn plane into the artic. 

It takes a moment for Steve to realize silence has fallen over them and when he wonders why he looks up to Sam who has a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk on his face.

"Steve."

"Yeah." 

"Are you hard?"

Steve sputters and steals a glance at his obvious hard on before dropping his ass onto the bed and covering himself with a pillow. He scoffs, "No."

"It's alright, man, it's pretty flattering actually. Thank you, and here I was thinking all that junk food was making me soft."

Steve shakes his head at the thought, "Nope, not at all. I shouldn't say this, but I've already seen it and this is where we're at so." He swallows and levels Sam with a very serious stare, "You have a  _very_ nice cock."

Sam's eyes widen before he's bending over in a fit of laughter, hugging his stomach and letting out loud, boisterous chuckles Steve's happy to hear and be the cause of. 

"Did you really get  _that_ good a look at it, Cap?" Sam asks.

Steve shakes his head, "Cap would never ogle a man fresh from a shower, and I don't know, I mean...I was  _lookin'_." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds before they both laugh again.

"Well maybe you can get a better look at it sometime."

"Really?" Steve asks, laughing at his own eagerness. Sam simply shrugs before closing the bathroom door with a wink. 

Steve thinks that leaves him pretty hopeful prospects all things considered.


	35. Slipping into Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home from a late night mission and slips into his husband's bed. Yep. That's it.

Steve sighs as his eyes fall upon the light glowing in the night at his front porch, moths buzzing around the lamp as he walks up the front steps. He kicks away the welcome mat for the spare key and unlocks the front door before stepping inside. 

Unbuckling his helmet he hangs it on the coat rack next to the door and slips off his boots before tiptoeing up their front stairs. He shuffles to the end of the hall and peaks into the kids' room where Margie and Lola are sound asleep with their night light a small beacon in the corner. 

Steve sighs, not letting himself dwell on the fact this is the second night in a row he's missed tucking them in and reading them a story. He can hear Sam telling him it's not his fault, but this time the voice doesn't help. He walks forward to smooth down Margie's dark brown curls and she twitches in her sleep. Turning to Lola, he does the same thing with her glossy, thick black hair, frowning when her hazel eyes fly open against her brown skin. 

A slow smile dawns on her face and he bends down to kiss her cheek. "You're supposed to be asleep, sweetheart."

"I was faking."

"You're getting pretty good at that, couldn't tell that time." He whispers, smiling wistfully at her.

"Well you're easy, Daddy never falls for it. Says I twitch too much." 

Steve laughs at that, idly stroking her hair and just gazing at her. "Well your Dad's too smart for both of us." He replies, giving her one last kiss before standing back up. "Now go to sleep, Lollipop." He points a finger at her and she giggles, "For real."

"Okay."

But when he's at the door she makes a "psst!" sound and Steve turns back in the thresh hold. 

"Did you save the world tonight, Papi?"

Steve huffs a laugh, "Sure did, pumpkin."

With that he closes the door behind him and creeps down the hallway to him and Sam's master bedroom. He quietly clicks the door shut and sits on a stool by their bureau to strip out of his uniform, propping the shield against the wall. 

Steve takes a minute to work out all the kinks in his body before changing into a fresh pair of boxers and shuffling back to their bed. Sam lays perfectly still in their bed, gripping a body pillow as if it's him, a crease between his brows the only indication he knows it's not real. Steve slips it out of his arms to take its place, wrapping his arms around Sam and bringing him close, tangling their legs together so hardly a breath of skin is left untouched.

Sam moans and his eyes slide open to look at him heavy lidded. Their eyes meet and he gives the slow smile he just saw on Lola. "Hey Mr. Hero Man, how's it going?"

"Alright now that I'm here."

Sam nods and burrows his face into the cradle where Steve's neck meets shoulder, "You happy?" He murmurs, something he's begun asking him nearly every night. Steve brings his hand up to cradle the back of Sam's head and kisses his cheek.

"Mmhm. Shh. Let's go to sleep." 

Sam snorts against his skin, "You don't have to tell me twice. Those children are pretty demons."

Steve laughs too loudly but Sam grins up at him with pride.


	36. Touch Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a touch therapist Steve's friends call and book for him after a traumatic rape he has yet to recover from six months ago.

The doorbell dings innocently but Steve glares at the peephole and has to will himself to walk over and open the door to his apartment. The man in the hall is one he's of course never seen before. He's wearing a simple plaid button down and khakis, a nerdy professional look that does nothing to hide his attractiveness. His skin is a rich, warm brown cooler than his eyes and just as bright as his smile. Steve tries to smile just for him, just because he looks so nice. He can try to be happy at the thought of other people's happiness -- he's not a monster. 

"Samuel Wilson, touch therapist, I'm guessing your Steven Rogers?" He says, not bothering to stick his hand out which Steve appreciates immensely.

"Um," He swallows, "Yeah, everyone calls me Steve."

"I go by Sam. May I come in?"

He steps aside, "Of course. Make yourself comfortable." 

Steve notes the look of pleasant surprise as Sam's eyes fall over his small apartment. He awkwardly rubs his palms against the rough edge of his jeans and closes the door behind them. 

"I guess you were expecting more of a mess, huh?"

"Well, that's what I mostly get for these sort of visits. I'm not used to having to hide a  _pleased_ expression." Sam replies, making Steve laugh. 

"I know you didn't schedule this appointment yourself, Steve. I'm not judging you for that by the way, I have never experienced anything close to what you've gone through -- nothing I can remember anyway. So I'm gonna guess you haven't given this sort of thing," He gestures between himself and Steve, "any thought, like what you want to start with first, what's okay, what's off limits, how far you're willing to go with the touching for our first session. So I thought today we could simply map out all of that so neither of us wind up in an uncomfortable or unwanted situation. Fair?"

Steve nods and gestures to his couch for Sam to sit. He sits across from him in his recliner and watches Sam take a sheet of paper from his satchel. He follows that with a pen and places them both on the coffee table, clicking the pen once before turning his warm eyes back onto Steve.

"So. When's the last time someone's touched you since the incident, Steve?"

"Oh," He sighs like the breath's been knocked out of him, "starting with the big questions are we? Well, um...my grandma Peggy. She's the only one. She gave me a hug and that's pretty much it, so I'd say it's been about five and a half months."

"Okay." Sam says, his face blank as he writes down the information stoically. Steve can't feel any kind of judgement from him nor any pity. He shifts to the edge of his chair and presses his hands between his bony knees. 

"What do you think is your worst area to be touched?"

"My back. He- they did it from behind so...I don't like anyone to be behind me like that. Not anymore."

They continue speaking like that for awhile until Sam's paper is filled out with boundaries, safe zones, safe words, and a two sessions a week plan. Steve leads Sam out of the apartment as soon as the session is up and they give a simple nod in lieu of goodbye.

* * *

 

The next week Steve's therapy truly begins. 

He lets Sam in again, greeted by the same exuberant smile his brain remembered so fondly. Steve's prepared for the session, he laid out a blanket and a few pillows on the floor before Sam's arrival since he remembered him saying lying down was the easiest way to begin. 

Sam smiles at him approvingly and Steve ducks his head as he blushes and gets comfortable on his floor. He feels more than sees Sam kneel next to him and can't help but tense defensively, not that it helped him any that night all those months ago.

"You don't have to close your eyes if you don't want to, but some patients like to imagine someone else touching them -- a celebrity crush or something, you know? I'm not gonna judge you if you imagine me as Brad Pitt, hell,  _I'd_ fuck Brad Pitt."

"Oh, you're gay?" Steve asks, perking up and looking at him a little too interestedly. 

"Yeah. You?"

"Bi. I think I'm gonna keep my eyes open, Sam." Steve replies, lying back down and watching him a little cautiously. 

Sam nods and rolls his sleeves up his thick forearms. "Hands first, right?" He asks, even though Steve knows he remembers their list. He nods and whispers, "Green." So he won't have to go ahead and ask him that too.

Steve watches Sam's careful expression as his fingers graze his own in a light caress that makes him want to yank his hand back to his chest. He curls his hand into a fist before releasing it, letting Sam's hand continue its exploration. Before he knows it the touch seems comforting and Steve locks their fingers together in a trust of faith. 

He takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes at the contact, reveling in the feel of Sam's soft warm palm against his own. And he kind of likes it. 


	37. Family Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam decides to give himself a midday nap and soon his whole family joins him.

"Whatcha doin'?" 

Sam doesn't bother opening his eyes because he knows he'll just find his husband Steve looking gorgeous as always and he thinks the picture of him lying in their bed with his eyes closed is answer enough.

"You've been watching too much  _Phineas and Ferb_ with the kids. I'm taking a nap, Steve, it's a thing us non-supersoldiers do when they get too tired."

"Can I join you?" 

Sam cracks an eye open to see Steve staring down at him with an earnest and curious expression as if he's never even considered the fact people get tired in the middle of the day instead of letting some burning orb in the sky rule them completely. He knows that if he said no Steve would just turn back around and keep playing with their kids and strangely enough that fact is what makes him nod. 

Steve's face lights up and he hops over him, making the bed bounce dangerously before crawling under the blankets and cuddling up close behind him. Sam laughs when he gets a kiss to his cheek and a whisper of thanks in reply. 

They only have a few minutes of silence before Sam hears the dreaded sound of tiny, hurried footsteps. 

"Are you guys about to wrestle again?" 

He can tell from her voice that it's Lola. Steve laughs behind him and whispers, "No, but your Daddy's trying to take a nap. You have to be quiet."

"Why are you in here with him?" She asks, sounding jealous and suspicious all at once.

"Because I married the man and reserved the right to annoy him the most, that's why." 

Sam laughs and Steve gives him a possessive squeeze around his middle, no doubt having a stand off with their littlest one. 

"Well I want to take a nap too." And then there's a knee jabbing into Sam's hip, Steve's grunt in his ear, and another dip of the bed. 

"Lola! You better clean up this mess and where's Sasha's left foot?"

Margie comes barging in and Sam looks up at her raised eyebrow. She sighs as if it can't be helped and crawls over them all to take the last spot on the end. Steve's warm breath of a laugh tickles his ear and Sam smiles. 

He hears a jingling sound come closer and closer and Steve reprimands, "No, Bucky, no jump-"

Just like the real Bucky would the dog jumps onto the bed and curls himself up at the foot of it. Steve makes to move because he knows how much Sam doesn't like Bucky in bed with them but this time he just shakes his head and holds his arm tighter.

"Let him, he'd be alone otherwise. His whole family's in here."

"Okay." 

Steve lays back down and Sam can finally fall asleep, the rest of his family doing the same. And he wouldn't change it for the world, because then it wouldn't be his.


	38. A Drunken Steve is a Fighting Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha texts Sam to come get his boyfriend and Sam treats the situation as the dire emergency it truly is.

Sam gets the text from Natasha around seven o'clock in the middle of his fifth episode of Cake Wars. 

    Red-headed Devil: sam, come get your boyfriend. he's drunk and arguing with someone about the walking dead.

    Red-headed Devil: glenn just entered the picture . it's about to get serious. 

Sam throws his head back and groans because this not only means he has to get up but also has to put on pants. He tries to reason with himself for five minutes that this is what people go through for love before rightly deciding he's gonna beat up his  _own_ boyfriend when he gets him. Sometimes Sam wishes Steve didn't know martial fucking arts because then situations like this wouldn't be so very threatening. 

He quickly gets dressed and races out of their shared apartment to the sidewalk. The bar is only a block away and it would take more time to actually hail a cab or call an uber than to simply walk the short distance himself so Sam starts lightly jogging. 

He reaches the little pub him and all his friends fallen in love with to a definite ruckus much louder than the usual ruckus one would hear at any normal bar. 

Above the crowd Sam spots his boyfriend's shiny crop of blonde hair standing on a fucking bar stool and shouting at some random guy. Sam continuously mutters his excuses as he makes his way through the packed mass of bar tenants. 

"Glenn did  _not_ deserve to die because of the missing white trailer park brother to Mater from fucking Cars, bitch. Fuck Daryl and his ugly ass mullet. And  _another_ thing-"

 _"STEVEN!"_ Sam shouts, looking up at his boyfriend with his Momma Darlene Wilson face and his hands on his hips. 

A facade of excitement makes Steve's blue eyes sparkle but then his ears register Sam's just called him "Steven" and he knows he's fucked. His shoulders hunch a little bit as he curls in on himself and his hands fall together towards his crotch like a chastised catholic school boy.

"...Hi Sammy. How's it goin'?" 

"Oh, pretty well actually -- no dumbass, get off that damn bar stool."

Steve burps and looks down at the floor haphazardly with fear in his eyes, "I don't know if I can. I might fall."

Sam tries to taper down on the smile he's not supposed to have. Bless his boyfriend's heart because he's just too cute. He grabs Steve's legs and dumps him over his shoulder so he won't see his smile. 

At the last moment he sees a flash of red hair and nods a silent thank you in Natasha's direction. She simply raises her glass before taking another sip and tossing a chip into her mouth. 

Sam carries Steve out of the pub and into the fresh, uncrowded air of the city street, shifting him from the fireman's carry to bridal style. Steve smiles up at him dopily and boops his nose before wrapping his arms around his neck.

"You smell terrible, Steve."

"That's cuz I've been drinking, bitch!" He laughs. 

Sam shakes his head and mutters, "I'm just glad you're a skinny little shit."

"You and me both, kiddo. I can shop at Baby Gap." Steve jokes, smiling when Sam actually laughs. 

Back at their apartment Steve weakly crawls into bed and lets Sam undress him for bed. 

"What were you doing when Nat ratted me out?"

"Watching a marathon of Cake Wars."

Sam watches Steve's face fall and he almost looks like he's about to cry. "Oh. Sorry, I know you like Cake Wars."

"Yeah. It's fine. I've seen all of them anyway. Let's just go to sleep."

At that Steve's face brightens again like the sun and he throws his arms out wide. Sam happily slides into them and Steve yelps when he tugs him onto his chest. 

"You're a small guy who brings a big mess, you know that?"

"Yeah, but I um..." Steve helplessly searches for some clever response before shrugging in admitted defeat and cuddling close. "I love you, so it's okay." 

"I think that's what I'm supposed to say."

"Sam!" Steve jerks his head back up with a ridiculous scowl and Sam laughs. "Stop making me say things when my brain is like cotton candy okay?"

"Fine. You're gonna feel it in the morning though."

Steve groans and falls against his chest again, his hand idly stroking his goatee, "I know."


	39. Parent-Teacher Conferences Are Never Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are called in for a parent-teacher conference for their daughter Lola who has always been a little spark plug.

"Sam, I don't have a good feeling about this." Steve says, his foot tapping rapidly against the floorboards

"Well, duh, parent-teacher conferences are never a good thing."

Steve turns around to look at Lola in the back seat, cool as a cucumber. "JUST TELL US WHAT YOU DID!"

She scoffs and continues to determinedly stare out the window. "Nothing wrong, Papi. I did  _nothing_ wrong."

Steve turns back around and throws up his hands hopelessly. He groans as Sam pulls into the school parking lot and they all have to walk out together in the worst walk of shames he's ever experienced. 

"If you squeeze my hand any harder you're gonna give me carpal tunnel." Sam says, and Steve mumbles his apology before loosening his grip. He can't help being nervous.

They got lucky with Margie. She never did a thing wrong at school other than maybe being  _too_ perfect. Lola is a different girl all together. She's fierce and unapologetic about anything she is, very prideful, and even though she's not related to him by blood Steve's sometimes surprised by how much she reminds him of himself especially as a little punk in 1940s Brooklyn. 

Margie takes more after Sam -- levelheaded, a really good listener and a typical peacemaker. But that Lola, she's a Hispanic/Native American spitfire just like her Papi, and he loves her more than anything. 

So that's the thought that makes Steve push his shoulders back and lift his chin as they walk into the elementary school's front office and are met by her 2nd grade teacher, Mr. Potts. He's a small guy with brown hair, a beard, and thick black horn rimmed glasses. 

He leads them to his classroom and once there Lola sits in the back of the room and reads while they sit in two chairs in front of Mr. Potts' desk. 

Steve fiddles with his hands a little bit before deciding to twine them in his lap. He's glad when Sam speaks up first and is too happy to let his husband take the lead on this one. 

"You'll have to forgive my husband's nervousness -- we've never had a parent-teacher conference before with Margie."

They both laugh like grownups and Steve doesn't even feel like faking his laughter to join in. Instead he finds himself leaning forward anxiously. Just because he's here doesn't mean he's happy to be. He's very eager get to the point of all this.

"So what did Lola do exactly? She won't tell us, she just keeps saying it was nothing wrong."

"Well she drop kicked another student two grades above her and she wouldn't tell us  _why_. I was hoping you both could get her to explain why she did it."

Steve tries to maintain control of his face so no one else but him knows he's secretly amazed Lola drop kicked  _anybody_ let alone a fucking fourth grader. He tunes back into the conversation where Sam is saying he has no idea why she would do something like that unprovoked.

"I know my daughter and Lola  _wouldn't_ drop kick some random boy for no good reason. Even if she won't tell us what that reason is I  _know_ there has to be a good reason. In kindergarten she slapped a kid but that was only after he stole her juice box."

Sam glares at him and Steve shrugs, "What?" He asks sheepishly.

"So you think some kid stealing her juice box is a good reason to drop kick someone?"

"No, but you know what I'm saying. That was just to prove my point -- she always has a reason. My daughter may be a basket case made of many things but not one of those things is anywhere close to stupid --  _that_ I know." 

Steve barely sees the proud expression on Sam's face before tiny arms are wrapped around his neck and Lola's face is pressed into his neck. 

"Thank you, Papi." Her voice is shaky like she's closed to tears and he smiles before patting her arm and pulling her into his lap. 

"You're welcome, but Lollipop, you gotta tell us why you did it. I can't stick up for you if I don't know the truth."

She furrows her brow and shakes her head firmly. "I can't tell you why I did it because it was a secret. All I can say is you need to talk to Lindsey. Her house isn't safe."

With that and promises of reprimanding the Wilsons head home, Steve bouncing Lola on his lap the whole way there. 

Later on in the week it comes to light that Lindsey's older brother's friend -- the boy Lola drop kicked -- had been touching her inappropriately at home. 

"Why couldn't you just tell us that, sweetheart?" Sam asks, all of them gathered around the dining table for dinner.

Steve watches her shrug her shoulders as if the answer is quite simple. She looks up and says, "It wasn't my truth to tell." 

And Steve thinks that's a damn good answer if he's ever heard one. Sam looks at her in silent amazement before reaching under the table and taking Steve's hand. They share a look and he knows they're thinking the same thing. 

Somehow, she's all their's. 


	40. Flapjack Saturdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola hates and loves Flapjack Saturdays. She loves them because her Daddy's flapjacks are delicious and she hates them because when he makes them he dances and when he dances, Papi dances too. It's an all very loving and gross affair.

Lola sleepily follows her sister down the stairs, still rubbing out her eye boogers and trying to rouse herself for the day. She crawls onto a stool at the kitchen island and watches her Dad dance around the stove while pouring homemade batter into the frying pan. 

It's not long before the whole house smells sweet and doughy and that's the wonderful smell her Papi gets to come home to after his morning jog. He's not even sweaty when he gives each of them a hug before walking over to Daddy and doing the same with a kiss. 

She feels herself smile when he does even though she knows only a sickening display of ridiculous love is bound to follow. Papi looks over at them with a smile, his blue eyes sparkling in happiness and mischief. 

"Uh-oh, flapjacks, huh? You know what that means." 

Lola and Margie shake their heads collectively as Sam laughs in Steve's arms. She begrudgingly watches her Daddy start to sway with Papi's hands on his hips, following along. They start to sway and dance together as if it's a swing club for old happily married couples.

Papi twirls and dips her Daddy because he's always dramatic and her Daddy can't seem to stop laughing. 

Lola reaches down to dip her hand in the flour bag and flicks her fingers at them, dusting them both in spots of white. They shout in surprise and turn to gawk at her before laughing. 

Margie bumps her shoulder and snatches the bag, quickly continuing the assault. Papi takes to protecting their Dad, because of course he would. Dad's main concern is returning fire which he does with sticky batter that smacks against their skin upon contact. 

Lola and Margie shriek together and duck for cover before they're covered in what's supposed to be their breakfast. 

"Is that surrender, you little punks?" Daddy shouts, but Lola can hear the glee in his voice.

"If we had a white flag we'd be waving it!" Margie shouts back, giggling at her. 

"I slave over a hot stove for y'all and  _this_ is what I get? You better be happy yo Daddy don't burn pancakes."

With a call of ceasefire the girls return to their seats. Papi's still laughing though and Daddy's trying to hide his smile.

Yeah, Lola's pretty sure she hates Flapjack Saturdays. But she loves them a whole lot more.

 


	41. The Clubbing Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sees Sam tearing up the floor at a nightclub.

The whole club is watching him dance and maybe that's why Steve doesn't feel bad about watching him too. He's electric and blindingly alive, his movements more fluid and natural than any act of God Steve's ever witnessed, perhaps the man is an act of God himself.

It's not even the moves themselves that are overtly sexual but instead the abundant and blatant way he takes pleasure in executing them. His body is strong and somehow unapologetically masculine. He's handsome too, at least telling from the glimpses Steve catches under the flashing lights.

He guesses his gaze is too heavy because before he has a chance to look away their eyes are suddenly locked, blue to brown.

The man smiles invitingly and bites his lip, nodding to him. Steve points to himself incredulously, sometimes forgetting puberty took away all his ganky limbs and frail frame. The man laughs and nods again, temptingly running his hands down his chest.

Steve swallows his fear and steps through the crowd until they're standing face to face.

He shakes his head at the man's smile and says, "I gotta tell you I fulfill every stereotype. I don't dance and I  _do_ find Starbuck's incredibly delicious."

He laughs at his joke and the sound eases the rigidness of Steve's spine.

"Big guy like you, I wasn't really expecting it. What's your name?"

"Steve."

"I'm Sam."

"You're a really good dancer, Sam."

"Thanks. Then I hope that means you trust me enough to take the lead."

"Absolutely." Steve replies on a breath, letting Sam move his hands to his hips.

When Sam does the same with his own hands electricity sparks and skitters up Steve's sides. Sam's gaze never leaves Steve's own as he begins to move and sway them to the beat. When he turns him around and pull shim close in the beginning of another song Steve puts up no protests. Quite the opposite really.

He sways his hips in a manner he prays is seductive and reaches back to hold Sam's neck, giving a hum of surprise when their lips are suddenly connected. Steve turns in Sam's warm embrace and falls deeper against him. He drags his hands up the musculature of Sam's arms and squeezes his biceps before resting his hands on his shoulders.

Sam comes up for air and Steve takes the time to press incessant kisses along his neck and jaw. 

"You wanna get out of here, Superman?"

"If you think I wouldn't let you bang me in a herpes-infested club bathroom you're horribly mistaken."

"If you think I'm the type of guy who fucks in a herpes-infested club bathroom  _you're_ sorely mistaken. Plus a face like yours deserves a bed or a couch at  _least."_

"By the way I take offense to that Superman comment. I'm a completely different brand."

"Oh I am well aware, Captain Rogers. Clark Kent doesn't have the balls it takes to stroll into a gay nightclub let alone pick up a black man as fine as myself."

Steve laughs and kisses him again before turning to drag them out of the swarm of bodies. He keeps looking back to make sure Sam's still there, unable to keep the smile off his face at the prospect of not sleeping alone tonight. And maybe, just maybe, he can convince Sam to stay until morning. 


	42. Lil' Debbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a certain point in their lives together the serum starts to wear off. Steve starts getting grays, and his metabolism is beginning to slow down. Sam makes it very clear he has no problem with it.

When Steve places the cake in their shopping cart at Publix he doesn't miss the pointed look his husband gives to his hips. He scoffs and Sam laughs at his scandalised expression.

"What, Sam? If you have something to say just say it."

"What can I say, baby? Just that, with the serum slowing down maybe you can't pack it all away anymore -- not that I'm complaining if that ever happens." Sam replies, a goofy smile coming over his face as he creeps up to him and grabs his still rock hard stomach. 

Sam leans up to him and whispers, "I would love to have some love handles to hold onto when we cuddle."

Steve pulls back in surprise. "You never told me you were a chubby chaser."

"That's because I'm not. I don't actively seek out and fetishize people, I just happen to not be an asshole who demands slim and skinny all the time."

"Have you ever dated anyone who was...bigger?"

A dreamy smile Steve's slightly jealous of brightens his husband's face. "Yeah, Jeremy was a good guy. He lost his mother right in the middle of our relationship. The guy was originally a physical trainer and then depression hit and suddenly the gym -- a place he  _loved_ no longer held any interest," He snorts, "But little Debbie cakes sure did. He gained a butt load of weight and I staid with him for two years after that. We broke up because of his own insecurities. Couldn't get over the fear that I would leave him."

"No, I mean," Steve waves his hand, "have you been with someone who was already big when you met them?"

"Yeah, a guy named Sterling, and more. Anyway, I think we got everything. I don't want the kids to burn the house down if we're gone too long. Let's go."

Sam kisses his cheek and begins walking toward checkout and Steve numbly pushes the cart behind him. 

* * *

 

One Month Later

* * *

 

Steve struggles to pull the shirt over his head but doesn't really think much of it. He's always liked tight shirts, it's only when Sam makes an "oh" sound that he takes a look at himself in their mirror and his jaw drops. 

The blue polo doesn't cover the rest of his hips which are definitely fuller than usual. How could he not have noticed? Steve rips the shirt off and stares at himself. Pudgy. Pudgy is the only way to describe it. His abs are still there they just have a little bit more protection than in times past. Steve jumps and is fascinated to watch himself jiggle just the noticeable amount.

He's too busy staring at himself to notice Sam coming up behind him until there are two firm brown arms closing over his abdomen. Steve pinches his side and holds the fat between his forefinger and thumb in something akin to amazement. He's actually gaining weight. It's possible again. 

"Oh yeah." Sam croons, his hands taking Steve's place but instead gently rubbing his hands up and down his softer stomach. "You know what, I think you gained some here," and Sam pinches his thigh, pinching all the places as he names them. 

Steve jumps and giggles at every pull of skin. "And here," a pinch to the place just below his butt, "oh and  _especially_ here." And Sam gives his ass a hard smack. Steve gasps and smiles up at Sam's playful eyes in their reflection. He watches his husband sink to his knees and sucks in a breath when his right cheek is given a hard, pinching nibble.

Sam's eyes darken and Steve feels excitement bubble in the pit of his stomach. "Get on the bed."

"Yeah?" He asks, a little too excited.

"Yeah." 

Steve happily complies, sprinting over to their mattress and bouncing onto it like a kid who just bought the damn candy store. "What about your sister's barbeque?"

"I'll tell her we'll be a little late." Sam says uncaringly, already crawling after him. 

Well, maybe Steve doesn't mind a little weight gain either if this is what it gets him.  __Maybe he should even stock up on some Lil' Debbie cakes himself.


	43. In the Binds of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is Persephone and Steve is Hades. They are getting ready for Sam's trip to earth and Steve is having a tough time as always. In this version they actually love each other.

Sam looks up from the book he's reading to see Steve staring at him again with a sad longing in his eyes. He sighs and tries to ignore the gaze, but finds it near impossible after a few minutes.

The book falls to his lap and Sam glares at his husband, "I'm leaving tomorrow. Stop sulking about it and just get over here if you want to touch me so bad."

"But then it will be harder for when you actually leave me again. I don't want you to go." Steve says, pouting as if he isn't the God of the fucking Underworld. He wouldn't even look like it if it weren't for the beautifully curved horns on his head and the pointed tail flicking anxiously about the stoned floor.

"This was the arrangement when you married me -- you  _know_ this. It happens every year, Steve, get over it already."

"But I miss you  _terribly_ when you go." Steve replies, finally conceding and walking over to lay next to him on their bed. Sam lets the God pull him to his chest, laughing to himself when his tail wraps around him as well. 

"I will return, don't I always?" Sam whispers, taking Steve's strong jaw in his hand and making flowers bloom about the crown of his head to adorn his horns in their petals. Steve smiles at him adoringly and for a second Sam considers not going. He could always stay, just a little while longer, there's no harm in that. 

"Perhaps you could come with me, Steve."

"And leave Hades unattended?"

"Why not?" Sam replies, nestling his head into the crook of Steve's neck and breathing in his smell of soot, fire, and ashes. "Just promise to consider it, won't you?"

"Of course."

Sam smiles at that and he knows Steve will say yes when the day comes. For the only weakness of the King of Hades is Sam himself. He takes much pride in that.


	44. This One's For Brenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn't exactly excited to watch a Scary Movie marathon for his husband.

"Why are we watching  _Scary Movie_ anyway?" Steve groans, accepting the bowl of popcorn shoved into his hands anyway. 

Sam glares at him before shoving the DVD into the player, "Because I love Brenda and I suffered through your Disney movie marathon so you can put up with mine, okay?"

Steve's mouth drops open at the comment and he stares in disbelief as Sam comes to sit next to him on their couch. "That comment made me seriously consider divorce for two seconds too long. Who doesn't like Disney movies?"

"I don't  _dislike_ them -- it's just a whole lot of the same to watch  _over and over and **over**_ again." 

Steve scoffs and mumbles, "whatever," happily sliding into Sam's side when he lifts up his arm. "I just thought we would be spending our night without the kids a little differently."

"We'll have sex later, don't you worry." Sam replies, kissing Steve's cheek and making him blush. 

"We better. I love our children, I really do but my balls are shriveling up to blueberries."

Sam laughs and shoves at him and Steve smiles proudly. "You like that?" He asks, the movie cuing up in the background of Sam's laughter. 

"Yeah I did, that was a really good analogy, well done, baby. Balls shriveling up to blueberries -- how eloquent." 

"Thanks. Isn't this the one where Brenda gets stabbed in that movie theater?"

"No, I skipped that one. This is  _Scary Movie 2_. Where she  _doesn't_ get stabbed to death. I don't wanna watch the one where my favorite character is  _successfully_ killed off hardly an hour in."

"Makes sense."

"Yep." Sam replies, shushing him when it finally begins. 


	45. A Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is being held captive by a Rumlow at a Hydra facility and is being asked why he seems so unbothered.

It isn't a conversation Steve ever imagined having with a villain of all people, especially not a scumbag like fucking Crossbones. But he couldn't really care less which is precisely why Rumlow is so confused in the first place.

"Why are you so calm?"

Steve shrugs in the bindings he believes he could easily break with a little more effort, "I just know he'll come for me. He always does, just like I come for him."

"It's that simple, huh?"

"Yep. It is. Even if I'm not gonna be Captain America for much longer, he'll still come for me -- no matter what."

"You're gonna put the shield down? You?" Crossbones ask, obviously unbelieving and laughing at him. As if Steve could bring himself to give a shit about what he thinks. 

"Yeah."

"And just why would you do that?"

Steve shrugs, takes an absent look around the seemingly abandoned warehouse they're holding him in. "I could give you some long bullshit Batman speech about how America doesn't need me or deserve me but that's not exactly my style anymore. I'll just tell you the truth, and even I admit it sounds pretty cheesy. There's a man I know, I believe you met him. He's a stand up guy and for some crazy reason I'll never delve into he loves me. And that love makes me want to be a little better, better than the shield has ever demanded of me.

"Because he's a man who deserves the best out of everyone, and to do that I have to give him all of me. And you know what, Rumlow? I find that I actually  _want_ to. I'd do anything for him. He'd never ask me to leave it all behind and that's precisely the reason why I want to -- for him."

"So you're giving up being a hero for love?"

"Yeah, I told you it was pretty cheesy, but it's the truth. And no one said I was gonna stop being a hero. I'll just be a different kind."

"You really think this dream man is coming for you?"

"No. I know he is. You should probably duck."

"Wha-" 

And just on time Sam crashes through the sky light and drop kicks Crossbones across the warehouse where he slams into the opposite wall with a bang. Sam takes out the remaining agents in quick succession and then strolls over to him, folding in his wings. 

Steve smiles prettily and leans forward a bit, his heart surging when Sam obliges him with a quick kiss. 

"What took you so long?" He asks.

"Don't get that attitude with me, you could've gotten out of this your own damn self, and you know it." Sam replies, untying him almost reluctantly.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have gotten to see you being a badass."

Sam sucks his teeth and nods, "Not gonna lie, that's a  _great_ reason."


	46. The Fear of a World Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is in a coma after a mission gone bad and Steve is slowly falling apart at his side.

Steve couldn't believe the doctors when they told him Sam was in a coma. He just couldn't believe it. For some stupid and foolish reason he always saw his partner as invincible, untouchable -- a God amongst the rest of man, and yet here they were. 

As he sits at his bedside Steve feels this is the most humbling experience he's ever had. It's horrible in its brutality, but humbling if nothing else. Sam's just human, he breathes, and he bleeds, and he can die. Steve should never have forgotten that, and he can't get over the fact that it's his fault Sam's lying in a hospital bed clinging to life all by himself. He wouldn't be anywhere near danger if Steve had just kept his distance a year ago. If he had just passed him and left it at that, but no. He was greedy. He caught a glimpse of sunshine and he wanted more and now the sun may never shine for him again. 

Steve chokes on his own breath at the thought of this and clutches at the shirt over his heart as it pinches and throbs within his chest. He lets his head fall and hears his tears splatter against the tiled floor as he sobs. It's this horrible, dying sound that comes out of him -- a wheeze akin to that of a dying animal, and he guesses that's what he is. 

"Oh God, Sam please." He rasps, clutching desperately at Sam's limp hand and holding it to his lips. 

"I'll do anything, I'm so sorry. Please just--" He shakes his head and tries to search Sam's face for any signs of recovery even though he knows it's futile. "Don't leave me yet, please." 

Steve cries himself into a stupor and soon falls into a fitful sleep in the uncomfortable chair at Sam's bedside, and when Steve wakes up it's to voices. 

"How long has he been here?"

"He hasn't left your side unless it's been to pee or shit, one."

Steve cracks open his eyes and almost can't believe it when he sees Natasha and Sam above him having a conversation as if it's just another day. He stands up suddenly and doesn't stop himself from tackling Sam into a bear hug, squeezing him as tight as he can without grinding his ribs to dust.

"Sam." He chokes out, his voice cracking on the one word. Sam nods into his shoulder and rubs his hand up his back in silent understanding.

"Yeah. I'm here. It's okay."

"I was so scared. I'm sorry." Steve bites out, pulling away to kiss Sam desperately on the lips. "I love you so much. Please don't leave me again."

"I love you too, idiot. Now you know how I felt after the damn Pontamac. It's a dangerous business we're in, Steve."

"Well I don't give a shit about it if you're not here with me."

"I wish I could say you were lying." Sam whispers, laughing lightly as Steve peppers all the skin he can reach in kisses.


	47. A Day at the Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's basically a day at the fair. i just keep it real like that

Steve hoists Jamie higher up on his hip and tries not to lose patience. "Escucha a me, hija." Lola straightens up that -- he only uses Spanish when he's dangerously close to losing it.

"You have two choices, you can either stay down here and eat a funnel cake, or you can go on the rollercoaster with your dad and sister. That's it."

"But why can't I eat my funnel cake and  _then_ go on the rollercoaster?"

"Because one, that would make them have to wait on you and that's not fair to them, and two because I'm pretty sure that would make you throw up. Believe it or not I don't let you learn everything the hard way. Now if you don't make a decision in the next three seconds you're going to be staying down here with us and have no funnel cake. 1-"

"Bye, Papi!" She shouts, turning on her heel and running towards the rollercoaster. Steve laughs as Margie follows her little sister's lead and Sam turns toward him.

"You sure you don't want a turn? I can hold Jamie just fine."

"No, you like the rides better than me anyway. I'll be fine." 

Sam makes a face like "if you say so" and shrugs before leaning forward to give both of them a kiss. Steve blushes and Jamie coos at his dad's retreating back. Steve grins at the baby and turns his head to blow a raspberry against his son's cheek which never ceases to make him burst into high-pitched squeals and gurgling giggles. 

"C'mon, why don't we get something sweet to eat, huh?" 

Steve walks them over to one of the many food trucks and buys two different candy apples and a small cotton candy. They walk over and sit down at one of the picnic tables to silently eat together. Steve tears off little pieces of cotton candy that Jamie shoves between his shiny lips, amazed every time the candy melts in his mouth. Steve can't help but laugh joyously at the expression he makes. 

Not a long time later the rest of their family finds them, but before Steve can ask how it was Margie is whisking Jamie away from him with her determined eyebrows firmly set.

"It was great, Papi, now it's your turn. Lola and I will watch Jamie while you two go on some rides together. There's enough tickets for about two. Have fun!" 

Steve looks at Sam he shrugs as if this is news to him too. He shakes his head at them both, "No, you guys didn't have to do that. We bought you to the fair to have a fun day, don't give it up."

"We're not giving it up, tonto." Lola pipes in, "The sun's gone down. We  _have_ had a fun day -- and you guys deserve to go on a ride together at least once."

Steve watches a guilty expression come over them both and Margie explains, "We asked you guys not to embarrass us today and you haven't. You only kissed each other like two times but you also looked kind of sad all day and we're sorry about that. We feel really bad about being embarrassed by you guys."

"It's only because we don't see other parents acting all lovey dovey all the time! You guys act like it's still your honeymoon!" Lola shouts.

Sam and Steve nod at each other, not even slightly inclined to disprove the point. 

"But you're  _sure_ about this?" Sam asks, looking both of them in the eye. 

In answer Margie smiles and holds out the remaining foot of tickets. "Have fun. I hope the other passengers throw up at your obvious love."

"Thanks. Don't get lost and don't get kidnapped."

"I'm thirteen, we'll be fine, plus Aunt Nat taught me how to kill a man with my thighs."

Steve frowns and opens his mouth to comment on that but Sam snatches the tickets and leads him away before he can. 

"She said they were having a tea party last time she came over."

Sam takes his hand and twines their fingers together before answering. "Yeah, and they probably were. Natasha would definitely think teaching someone her deadly thigh moves would be proper tea party conversation." Sam scoffs. 

Steve decides to let it go and rests his head on Sam's shoulder briefly. "I know I was with you all day, but I missed you."

"I missed you too. What ride do you want to go on?"

"Well we have enough for two, I say we go on one romantic one and one scary one."

They look at each other for a couple of seconds before laughing. "No, two scary ones, let's go."


	48. Just A Little Guy From Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Sam never got to meet Steve as he first was before the serum in a lot of ways he can see that his boyfriend is still very much like that little guy from Brooklyn, and it's strangely endearing.

There are several ways Steve still acts like he's a 5'4" guy weighing in at 95 pounds instead of 6'2" and 200 something. Sam often sees a glimpse of his lover's former self when he's having a bad day or after a bad mission. He'll curl in on himself as if trying to become invisible, hunker his shoulders down and cross his arms. In these moments Sam can kind of see it -- picture him as the younger, smaller guy whose hands itched for a fight. 

When they're in bed together Steve is almost always the little spoon mostly because he's simply used to that being the case and forgets he's now big enough to hold Sam just as well. But Sam doesn't say anything about it because secretly he's pretty sure Steve just likes being held more. Which is fine by him, it makes him glow with a pride a little bit at being able to see someone so generally strong and stoic suddenly vulnerable and loving. 

Occasionally it's in the way he laughs or smiles, especially when he's embarrassed. Sam will make a comment about their love life or relationship in front of the team and Steve will flush a rosy red and duck his head down. It's funny to see a guy as big as he is act like that, and sometimes Sam tells him so which only makes Steve smile and blush some more. 

The times it's most apparent Steve used to be a smaller guy is when he climbs Sam like he's a well rooted tree. Even though he's way too heavy for things like that Sam will never tell him so. He loves it too much himself. He also loves the looks of disgust from their teammates when Steve crawls into his lap during movie night and makes it his personal nest for the rest of the evening. 

Steve always looks so shy when he does it, as if he expects the day to come where Sam will turn him away, but it steadily never comes. He'll crawl into Sam's space and rest his head in the crook of his neck, link his arms around him along with his legs and stay there like a very clingy spidermonkey. 

Steve's a big guy now, but Sam figures he will always be a little guy at heart, and who can possibly blame him for that?


	49. A Peculiar Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've written Mpreg before but without it really being the focus of the drabble so I'm going to remedy that here for the few who like mpreg. I know you exist. And if you're some who don't like it -- ignore this update entirely.

It's not exactly a situation Steve ever imagined himself in -- why would he? What man ever imagines themselves getting pregnant other than the brief thought if that? He guesses Dr. Erskine had a different idea when he set out to make the all-around "Super Soldier." Maybe he even had an idea of how other super soldiers could be produced later on. He just didn't tell Steve about it.

The first few mornings he spent hunched over the toilet bowl Steve really didn't think much of it. Sam made a big deal about it -- wanting him to go see Bruce or any doctor really, but he firmly waved his boyfriend off. He honestly thought it was nothing at the time. The sickness and nausea soon went away and Steve gave Sam a smug smile over it all, but ended up visiting Bruce just to appease Sam. 

They were all pretty surprised when Bruce gave them the news. Who would've guessed Steve was three weeks pregnant? Steve finally comes back to the present at the sound of Sam's sharp breath. He realizes he's the reason and loosens the grip he has on his boyfriend's hand. 

Steve levels Bruce with a very serious stare and tries not to pitch over. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Positive. You're pregnant, Steve. Seems it's an unknown and unanticipated cause of the serum. You have two ovaries perfectly intact. My best guess is Erskine wanted you to be able to continue the line of super soldiers if you were the last success of his research." Bruce looks awkwardly between the two, "I guess I'll leave you two to digest that. Congratulations."

The door closes behind him and Steve huffs out Sam's name on his last breath, hardly feeling the arms that suddenly wrap around him and pull him back against a hard chest.

"Shush, it's alright." It's only at that does Steve realize he's crying, and he doesn't know why. He's not sad. If anything he's kind of...happy? Just a little bit happy because all he can think is he won't be alone and he can love anything that has a piece of Sam Wilson. 

"Why are you crying?" Sam whispers, his lips moving against his temple.

Steve holds the arms wrapped around him and presses a kiss to Sam's bicep. Tears still leaking down his cheeks he whispers, "Because I'm happy. I'm really kind of happy, Sam." 

And suddenly he realizes he's not the only one affected by this situation and pulls back to look his boyfriend in the eye. "Is that alright? That I'm happy, that is? Is this alright with you, is this okay for us?" He asks, his breath hitching on the answer.

"Of course it is. It's a little unexpected -- I didn't think we would be able to have our own kids and I certainly didn't think we would have some before I got a chance to propose to you."

"You were going to propose to me?" Steve asks, his eyes lighting up.

Sam laughs at him and Steve doesn't even care how silly he must look. "Well, yeah, eventually, of course I was going to. It's not like you carry on a fling for two years." 

"God, Sam, this is strange, but kind of amazing at the same time."

* * *

 

Two Months Later

 

Steve shifts against Sam's chest and giggles as his fiance's hands graze lightly over his rounded belly. He feels their baby girl kick in response and they both gasp and chuckle as if it isn't the hundredth time she's done that. It never ceases to amaze them though. 

"What are we gonna name her?" Steve asks, tangling their feet together and leaning his head back against Sam's shoulder.

Sam kisses his cheek and neck, "I don't know. Why don't we name her after your best gal, Peggy? We can name her Margaret -- maybe Margie for short."

"Margie, huh? I like that." 

"Oh yeah?" Sam whispers, his voice deep and sultry, and Steve feels the baby kick for an entirely different reason. She does that sometimes when he gets too excited. It kind of creeps him out a little bit, but Steve has started to get used to it, and thankfully so has Sam. 

Steve wriggles his hips teasingly against the cradle of Sam's hips and smiles coyly. 

"Oh, someone's trying to start trouble, huh?" Sam teases, sliding out from under him and quickly setting to covering Steve in kisses.

"Maybe a little." Steve replies, happily accepting the love as Sam trails his lips down the curve of his stomach. They peak at each other over his navel and laugh.

 


	50. Wet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is from impromptu prompts on Tumblr and it's where someone makes really sexual noises while they sleep and the other overhears, prompting them to ask what they were dreaming about. HALFWAY THERE MOTHERFUCKERS. YAASSSSSSSSSSSSS. 50 FREAKING CHAPTERS BITCHES. *throws confetti* this has SMUT in it by the way, but just a dash.  
> SMUT WARNING.

Despite the day being long and tiresome Steve finds himself staring blankly up at their motel's popcorn ceiling at 2 in the morning. He's tired physically but his brain is too busy running twenty miles a minute. 

He decides to simply lay still for hours until the sun comes up one or he finally falls asleep when Sam rolls over and starts making tiny sounds in his sleep. Steve looks across the way at him and raises an eyebrow. 

His face is calm and peaceful but then he turns his head and a soft whimper falls from his lips before being followed by a low almost animalistic grunt that sends a jolt to Steve's groin. Another moan leaves Sam's throat, and Steve watches him quietly but otherwise Sam remains completely still and unperturbed despite his sounds nodding to the contrary. 

Steve watches Sam dig his head in the pillow and bite the fabric as another groan leaves his pretty lips. He feels himself become aroused but doesn't dare do a thing about it other than to keep watching. Silently he hopes and prays for the auditory assault to end while simultaneously urging it to continue in some perverse way. It's not as if Steve doesn't know  _why._ He's been nursing a very inappropriate crush on Sam for their entire trip together, and sometimes he wishes the motels they crashed at ran out of double rooms and forced them to share a bed together. In those close of quarters Steve can't imagine himself not being able to make a move. But of course his fantasies never ring true and they always book a double. 

After several minutes of listening to Sam have the best dream sex of his life Steve gives up and chucks a pillow at him. Sam snorts awake and blinks blearily about the room before his eyes fall on his. 

"Did you just throw a pillow at me, Rogers?"

Steve swallows the spit stuck in his throat and pulls the blankets up to his chin, crossing his legs against his arousal. 

"Um, what were you, uh, dreaming about?" 

Sam's eyes darken at that and Steve coughs to hide the whimper he nearly lets out. "You really wanna know, big guy?"

"...Yeah. That's why I asked." Steve replies, his voice falling to a whisper as he becomes less and less sure of himself. What if it was a dream about Sam fucking some girl and Steve has no chance once-so-ever? That would be just his luck.

Steve stiffens as Sam swings his legs out of his bed and slowly walks to stand over his own. He swallows nervously and wordlessly scoots over as Sam pulls the sheets back and lies down right next to him. Oh Sweet Mother of God, he's done it now.

"Funny enough it was a very realistic dream of me fucking your brains out. Can you believe that, Cap?"

Steve makes some kind of noise he'd imagine someone having a stroke would make and nods his head numbly against the pillows. Sam just creeps closer to him, resting his weight on his elbow and leaning over him with a sultry look to his eyes Steve's never seen in full blast before.

"Wha-" He swallows and tries to will away his uneasiness, "What happened in the dream?"

"Well we were still on our search for Bucky. For a dream it was actually  _very_ well thought out. You were particularly pissed after an extremely close run-in with the winter soldier and too angry. I calmed you down and in the midst of that you kissed me for some reason, and then we stumbled our way to the bed." 

Sam's eyes drag over Steve's body where it's safely under the sheets. He reaches a hand out and trails it over his shoulder and arm, anchoring on his hip and bringing him close. Steve shivers as the rest of the retelling is whispered hotly against the shell of his ear. 

"I began to undress you, and you were begging like crazy. You know what you kept saying to me?" 

"Wh-what?"

"Take a guess." Sam whispers, his hand only dragging up and down the length of Steve's side but making him crazy through the contact.

"I don't know...take me? Please."

"That just seems uncanny. You guessed correctly. It seems my subconscious knows you pretty well doesn't it, Steve?" 

"Mmhm." Steve hums, shuddering when Sam's hand finds it's way beneath the sheets and kneads at him knowingly. He uncrosses his legs and shuffles closer with a moan. 

"Please. Kiss me, Sam." He whispers, leaning his head up and sighing when Sam takes his lips in a slow and torturingly patient kiss. Their legs tangle together and Steve lets Sam roll atop him.

"You know I never got to see the end of that dream, but I could tell it was going to be beautiful." Sam whispers, his lips brushing along the burning skin of Steve's throat and adam's apple.

"Wouldn't you like to know how it ends?" He asks, and to that Steve desperately nods his head and pulls him close. 


	51. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve leave the kids with their grandma and go to Tony Stark's party because they both know they've become hobbits when it comes to anyone other than Lola and Margie, and your kids shouldn't be your only and therefore best friends.

When the idea first arose in the group Sam thought of protesting like a loyal husband, but then he realized he had never seen his husband wildly drunk before and was mildly curious as to what would happen. Plus Thor was here and that meant it could actually  _happen._ He justifies his lack of protest by the fact Steve has seen him ridiculously drunk on more than one occasion, which was true if he was being specific. 

So slowly throughout the night Steve kept drinking what he thought was a coke, little did he know it was spiked with Thor's strong Asgardian liquor. Sam keeps a close eye on him of course, never really leaving his side from where he sits on the couch. 

He documents the time he knows Steve is wasted to be 10 o'clock on the nose. His blue eyes become hooded and glassy and he can't stop putting his hands all over Sam as if there isn't company in front of them. 

The Avengers laugh as Sam pries Steve's hand off his ass and his husband sticks out his bottom lip and whines. Sam almost relents because of the heartbroken look in his eyes -- almost as if Steve's actually close to tears at his rejection. 

"C'mon, Sam. Give me some lovin', huh?" Steve slurs, leaning forward and trapping him in a bear hug. 

Sam tries to say something but Steve presses a finger to his lips and shushes him to everyone else's amusement but his own. So Steve's a touchy drunk. Understood. 

Natasha winks at him and takes a sip of her drink before saying, "Hey Steve."

He whips his head her way and wobbles a bit before smiling, "Hm?"

"What's your favorite thing about Sam?"

Steve flushes even more and giggles, looking back at his husband and nipping at his nose. Sam is going to die. He's never seen Steve this gone over him nor this embarrassingly affectionate. 

"Oh, I can't choose just one thing!" Steve exclaims, falling dramatically against the couch and putting his face in his hands. 

"Give it a try, big guy." Tony quips, the corner of his lip turned up.

Steve abruptly leans forward and evades Sam when he tries to stop him from grabbing his drink. He downs the rest of the coke in one go and slams down the tumbler -- breaking it.

"Oops." He hiccups and then says, "His ass."

Sam laughs along with the others even though he knew the answer was coming. 

"I love Sam's ass." Steve continues, turning to look at Sam with a loving gaze. He flops his arm and says, "Babe, get up and show 'em your ass." He looks back at the rest of them and says in what Sam's sure he  _thinks_ is a whisper, "It's amazing." 

"Steve, I'm  _not_ going to show them my ass."

"What?! Babe,  _c'mon!"_ Sam watches him lean forward and leer at him from beneath his brows and he's angry at himself when he feels heat flare over his skin.

"I'll do that thing you like later on tonight if you do it."

Sam's throat closes up at that and he bites back, "You won't even be awake later on tonight to do it, Steve."

"Oh yeah? Take a fucking bet." And the sheer determination in Steve's eyes is convincing enough for Sam to stand up to the riotous applause of their stupid friends and twirl around.

Steve whoops from his spot on the couch and smacks his ass loudly before pulling him back down when Rhodey wolf whistles.

Steve glares at him and says, "Alright, that's enough." He snatches Sam's hand and shows the matching ring on his finger, "See, we're  _married._ "

A few minutes pass of Steve biting Sam's ear and holding him close while their friends ask him questions they've always wanted to know the answer to. Like who was the better kisser, Peggy or Sam? Sam. The last time you tried to lift the hammer did you  _really_ try? No. If you had to be with anyone else on the team other than Sam who would it be? He'd be single. 

Steve perks up suddenly and hefts Sam up in his lap. "Hey, you guys wanna see our kids? I have the most  _beau_ tiful kids." Steve says, digging his wallet out of his back pocket and proudly letting his roll of pictures unfold before them. 

Sam frees himself from Steve's arms and starts getting their stuff together. He wants to leave before Steve starts to cry and tell stories, then they'll never leave, and he doesn't want to stay at the tower tonight.

"Alright, everybody. I think you guys got enough, don't you?" He asks, smiling at them and pulling Steve to his feet. He sways but otherwise stays up and smiles at him appreciatively, waving a hand at them all.

"Goodnight, guys. It was nice seeing you again, don't hesitate to invite us again if we've been gone too long, okay?" Sam says, helping Steve into his coat and walking them out the door. 

In the elevator Steve tries to get fresh with him but Sam determinedly pushes him away and whispers, "Home, Steve."

He whines like a child but settles for holding him close and staring at him lustfully the whole car ride there. 

It's a fun night all in all, and Sam considers calling up Thor and asking for more of that magical beer just to see Steve that lucid again.

 


	52. Not My Definition of Ideal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is an assassin assigned to kill Sam's current husband. Sam walks in on the clean up and Steve proceeds to flirt with him while disposing of the dude's body.

Steve screws on his silencer while watching his target have dinner with the husband he's frequently unfaithful to. He can't for the life of him understand why when he actually  _sees_ the man. He's beautiful, and funny from how many times his target has laughed so far, or he's just an asshole who fake laughs too. Steve scowls and suddenly wants to kill him even more. 

He waits until the dinner is over and the couple makes their way to their hotel room. When the unaware husband goes into the bathroom Steve's presented his chance. He slides across from his post in the neighboring trees and picks the window lock before slipping into the room. 

"Hey!" Jerome exclaims, reaching for his phone. 

Steve raises his hand and shoots the palm of his hand, making him curse and clutch it to his chest. His eyes widen and Steve laughs. All his targets always get serious only after the first bullet is shot -- no, because the gun in his hand is completely for decoration. 

"Okay, I'll give you whatever you want -- money, jewelry, anything. Just don't kill me!"

"I'm sorry, but your life is all I want, Mr. Edwards. Plus I'm already getting a buttload of cash from taking your ass out. Just consider yourself lucky my knives are getting cleaned and sharpened this week or else I'd be slicing you right now for cheating on that lovely man you've conned."

"Sam? You can have him!"

"See?" Steve laughs and waves the gun in his face,  _"This_ is why you're getting a bullet in your head."

"Wha-" But by that time Steve has his head pulled close, covering the back of his head with plastic as he shoots him neatly between the eyes. 

"And now your dead." He sighs and wraps Jerome's head in plastic wrap from his kit before laying him down face first so he's less likely to bleed out everywhere. He's in the middle of finding the right grip on Jerome's left arm to break it properly when the bathroom door opens and the man he'd called Sam steps out, the smile falling off his face at the sight of him. 

Well, Steve's sure it's not the sight of  _him_ , but more the sight of him with his dead husband. Steve likes to think he's a pretty decent looking guy away from corpses. He smiles.

"Hi." And breaks Jerome's arm. 

"Did...did you kill Jerome?"

"Well, yeah." He laughs, "I thought that was kind of obvious. Don't worry though, your husband was a piece of shit -- and I'm an assassin. He was cheating on you by the way. I wouldn't really mourn this guy if I were you. Plus I'd hate to see a pretty face like yours cry." 

Sam's brows furrow in confusion and his mouth opens and closes a few times at everything Steve's just said. Steve lets him digest it all in silence and continues to break his target's corpse for easy disposal. 

He sees Sam slowly sink into a chair out the corner of his eye and looks up to flash him another smile.

"I'm not gonna lie, Sam, I'm kind of glad I killed your husband tonight. But I also would've liked to meet you outside my line of work."

"Uh huh...what's your name?"

"Steve. Do you have a suitcase somewhere around here?"

He nods weakly and stands up, walking to the closet and bringing back a rolling black suitcase. Steve thanks him and Sam sits near him on the bed, looking down strangely at what used to be his significant other. 

"I didn't even love him anymore, but it's still weird to see you break his bones like that. What are you doing that for anyway?"

"Well I wasn't really sure if you'd have anything and the bin I have at home is a little small for a full grown body, you know? Plus, if you really want to know part of me enjoys it."

Sam continues to gaze at him in a way Steve can't really read and says, "You're a scary guy, Steve."

"I don't think so. I used to not be. I used to be a lawyer -- thought I could do my good that way, but it only helped for so long. I only kill bad people."

"What made Jerome so bad?"

"He funds a sex trafficking ring, Sam. I guess we could say there was a lot you didn't know about him."

Steve turns back to his work and unzips the suitcase, turning it on it's back so he can fit Jerome's corpse into it. 

"What are you going to do with it now?"

"I'm gonna drive out into the countryside and bury him twelve feet and then I'm going to plant a tree over the exact same spot."

Steve looks up after stuffing Jerome inside and finds Sam looking a little loss. Well, that's understandable seeing as his husband's dead. Steve shuffles over and places his hand on Sam's knee, getting the man to look at him.

"Hey, you can come with me if you'd like. You don't have to stay here."

"What makes you think it's that easy?"

"It's only as easy as you make it, Sam. But just in case I'll leave you my number, okay? Call me when you want. I'd love to take you out sometime."

Steve leans forward and presses his lips to Sam's cheek before taking his leave through the same window with his heavy suitcase.


	53. Samantha Tommie Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is genderbent in this one and married to Steve who is just a guy who works at a publishing company.

Sam lifts her leg out of the bath water and watches the water slide over her skin when she hears the front door open.

"Honey, I'm home!" Steve shouts, the jingling sound of his keys landing in the bowl by the door.

She shakes her head at the joke that hasn't been funny since the first time he said it. She sinks further in the tub and lets her breath bubble beneath the surface. 

Raising her head she calls, "I'm in the tub." 

Steve's home early, that much she knows. She should have at least another hour before he comes home. Dinner isn't even fucking ready yet -- the chicken's in the oven but it's certainly not fucking cooked.

She watches the doorway become full of her husband and they take a few moments to simply smile at each other as if it's a chance meeting and not a shared life. His blue eyes flicker over her once and no lust builds. He's only taking her in to do just that. 

"How's it goin'?" Steve asks, smirking at her like he thinks she's been lazing around all day. And the best thing is he wouldn't give a shit if she had.

"Good. What are you doing home an hour early? This is supposed to be me time." She pouts and sinks further into her midday bath, rolling her head back so it's cushioned by her mass of wet hair.

"And I was doing so well too."

Steve scrunches his nose up and tilts his head a little bit, biting his lip in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" He asks, walking over and hiking up his khakis before taking a seat on the bench a few feet away.

"We've been married for three months now and every single day of those months I've missed you while you've been away." She answers, her eyes focused on the ring she wiggles between her fingers. She shakes her head, "But not today. Today I got up and my peace was made with the cold sheets next to me." She looks up at him to see Steve's giving her a curious smile. 

"I was proud of myself, you know. Finally, I was okay with you being gone for so long. It's almost as if you  _sensed_ it and came back just to spoil my fun. You haven't asked but the chicken's in the oven -- that's what smells so good. There's a salad in the fridge and some pealed potatoes on the counter. I was going to mash them myself after I got out, but," She sighs and meets his eyes again, "then you came."

"Yeah. I wanted to surprise you." Steve explains, his hands fidgeting idly. He frowns at her then, "You never told me you missed me when I was away at work."

"You never asked, and I was kind of...I don't know. Ashamed isn't the right word for it, maybe embarrassed -- something stupid like that. It doesn't matter, you know now. You wanna know something else?"

Steve nods and scoots forward until he can take her hand. He follows the curve of her joints with the pad of his thumbs and looks at her in that adoring way of his. 

"I never meant to cook for you every day you came home to me. It was supposed to be a one time thing that first day -- a celebration of sorts. But I could never forget your face when you walked into that dining room and saw the table all set with food I had made for you. You always look at me like I hung the moon and the stars, but..." She takes a deep breath, "In that moment you look surprised, as if you forgot, or as if you never expected me to reach that high. And I...well, I got addicted to that look, and I just wanted to see you wear it as often as you could."

Sam laughs to herself and Steve smiles at her all slow like. "And I blinked and suddenly I was watching shows on the Food Network and writing down the recipes I liked, calling my mom up in the kitchen and getting her to walk me through things I thought you would like."

"I love that you cook for me. All the other guys complain about TV dinners, but I don't."

"Yeah, I guess that's one thing."

"And I never asked you to do it."

"Well as long as you keep doing the dishes, we'll be square." Sam laughs. 

She doesn't miss how Steve's eyes follow the shudder of her chest, and she can feel his gaze perusing the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. She smiles at him knowingly and Steve flushes scarlet. He ducks his head and breathes out an apology.

"Sorry. I'm ogling you like a horndog."

"I'm your wife -- you've never been more free to ogle. You just can't touch right now -- this is me time."

"Oh really? What about when you get out?"

Sam stretches languidly in that way he says is sultry and cat-like. "Then I'm all yours and you can tell me all the things you love about me."

"Hell, I can do that right now."

She laughs and shushes him, "Save it for later, Stevie. You'll get what's coming to you."

Steve's eyes flash and he pushes himself to his feet. "I'm holding you to that."


	54. Free Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's during a free fall while looking up at Sam that Steve realizes he loves his partner in more ways than one.

Steve enjoys the rush of wind streaming past his body and ears before there's a slight jerk and he's in Sam's arms like he knew he would be. Sam's gotten better at catching him so there's less of a jolt. They're a well oiled machine now. 

He's got his arms round tight around Steve's chest and there unbearably close. Steve's lashes flicker upwards and he catches the even brown of Sam's skin, the stubble under his chin and the bead of sweat slowly sliding down his adam's apple. His brown eyes are focused on the sky and they're hidden in red behind his goggles but Steve knows they're beautiful by heart. 

He feels his heart fall through his stomach and imagines the organ whistling through the air beneath them as his head and everything around him is suddenly  _screaming_ how much he loves this man.

"I love you." He says, mostly just saying it to himself because he's in awe at how true it rings. Sam somehow stumbles in midair and looks down at him. 

"What'd you just say?" 

"I love you. Sam. I love you." 

Sam frowns at him, carrying them both beat by beat into the sky. He's supposed to be carrying them back to the fight -- the mission's not over, but Steve can't blame Sam for wanting to take some time for this. 

"Did you just say you love me in the middle of the battle for Manhattan?" 

"Yeah. You- you looked beautiful and my heart lurched and I--" He licks his lips and holds tighter to the man around him, "I knew."

"How do you know? I'm not one for games when it comes to things like this, Steve. I hope you would know that by now."

"I do. Of course, I do. I'd never insult you by playing with your heart, Sam." He thinks  _it's too special for that_ but doesn't say anything. "I felt the same way I did when I danced with Peggy, only multiplied by a thousand."

Sam shakes his head and even through the goggles Steve can see the vulnerability in his eyes -- the fear of falling and not being caught in return. 

"And you're  _sure._ You love me. Not Barnes, not Sharon, not Natasha -- you love me."

"I love all of those people, but I don't want to wake up next to any of them. I don't want them like I want you. I love you, Sam."

Steve watches Sam slowly give into a smile and he inches up to kiss him. Their lips come together slowly and with an innocent want. Steve's heart lurches and beats an anthem between his lungs when Sam's arms tighten around him and he lifts his legs up to cling to Sam's waist. Tentatively he opens his mouth and lets Sam in just before they start to drift downwards. 

Fear doesn't even cross Steve's mind as an option -- that's how much he trusts Sam. If there's any place Sam knows what he's doing it's in the air. Wind rushes past them as they cling to each other and Steve moans when they pull into a stop and he's rubbed against Sam. 

"We should probably get back down there and help out. I definitely want to put a pin in this, though."

"Am I a better kisser than Nat?" Sam asks, smug and teasing.

Steve nods enthusiastically, leaning in again for another intoxicating peck. "Uh-huh, then again I'm not sure I could tell even if you were bad." 

"That's fair." 

And they laugh together, suspended in the air, warm in each other's embrace.


	55. Play Boy Colin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's characterization is based off another character of Chris Evans named Colin in the romcom What's Your Number with Anna Faris. It's a cute little flick. I'd check it out. Anyway, "Colin" is Sam's next door neighbor who constantly flirts and tries to whoo him.

The first time Sam had met his next door neighbor he was holding a dishcloth in front of his junk and eating an apple as he stooped to pick up his fucking Sunday paper. He had stared at him not in obvious lust but more in obvious disbelief, like, "really?"

Colin had then simply stood up and smiled, waving his paper at him as if butt-ass naked was how every citizen should open their front doors. After that he quickly noticed Colin never slept alone by the parade of men and women constantly streaming out of his apartment. Sam didn't really particularly care because thankfully their walls were thick or Colin just wasn't that good in bed, or maybe his partners were quiet -- the point is, Sam couldn't give less of a shit. 

Until one day he was vacuuming his apartment, naked, because he was also doing laundry, when someone suddenly tapped on his fucking window. He whips his head around and stares unbelievingly at the window where Colin is sitting. His jaw is open as if he didn't expect Sam to be in his own apartment. Well, no, it's probably more the fact Sam's not wearing an inch of clothing. 

Around anyone else Sam's sure he would be mortified or at least a little embarrassed but he figures Colin's such a man whore he's probably seen something like this every other night. 

He switches off his vacuum and walks over to the window to shove it up for him, and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "What?"

"Uh...can I wait someone out here in your apartment? I was really drunk last night and fucked my ex -- it was a mistake.  _Obviously."_

"Sure, I guess." 

Sam walks back to his vacuum and switches it back on, getting the one spot he has left under his couch before unplugging it and rolling it back into his hall closet.

When he turns back around he's not exactly surprised to see Colin openly staring at him. He flushes, but grins at him like he's his favorite dessert on a menu.

Colin opens his mouth and Sam interrupts, "I'm not fucking you, home boy."

His face falls and Sam tries not to laugh. 

"Wha- but...why not?"

"Cause I've seen nearly all of Manhattan stroll through from your damn apartment and I'm not looking for herpes, thank you very much."

Colin scoffs at him, "I don't have herpes. I'm completely clean. I get checked out every month."

"That's very healthy and thorough of you, but I still wouldn't fuck you. I'm more of a settle-down type guy. One night stands have never been my idea of fun."

Colin holds his tongue at that but he doesn't look happy to do it. They wait in an uncomfortable silence until they hear his door shut from across the hall and someone jogging down the stairs. Colin jumps up from the couch and runs his hands down his thighs.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess. Thanks for this."

"Yep." Sam says, already leaving the room to unload his laundry. He hears the door shut and doesn't think much of it.

But the following weeks Colin apparently thinks  _a lot_ about it. Now every time he sees him it's some cheesy line or sexual compliment. The guy's relentless. But still, every time Sam just smiles politely and wishes him a good whatever-time it is. 

Three weeks later though Colin stops him from escaping back into his apartment.

"Wait!"

He sighs and leans against the door frame. "What?"

"Listen, man. I've been with a cougar before and she said I was one of her top five best lovers -- it could be good for you, that's all I'm saying."

"What if you just slept with an inexperienced cougar?" 

"Look, I just know ever since I saw you naked almost a month ago I haven't been able to stop thinking about your dick and it's not what I'd call a healthy obsession."

"Wait, you started this conversation by saying you were a good lover with a  _woman_ , which means you'd be fucking me, but now you're saying I have a nice dick and that seems like I'd be fucking you. So who's fucking who in this imaginary scenario of yours?"

Colin laughs and shakes his head, "Well it's been a long time so I've basically imagined everything. I'll take whatever I can get with you, Sam. I just want to get with you. At least let me suck your dick."

"Bring me Chipotle on Friday and we'll see." 

Sam closes the door before he can see Colin finish his stupidly ecstatic fist bump. 

 

"My real name is Steve."

"Hm?" Sam hums, looking down at the man lying on his chest. Co- _Steve_ looks up at him with bright blue eyes, his chin rested on top of his hands. His hair is mused and messier than usual from the sex they just had and there's a nice flush to his cheeks. 

"My real name -- it's Steve."

"Why do you go by Colin then?"

"Do you think I'd really get as much ass as I do if I went by fucking  _Steve_?" 

Sam shrugs and closes his eyes again. "Fair enough." He breathes. "Have you ever told anyone that before?"

He feels Steve shake his head and say, "No. I just imagined telling you for some reason." 

"Okay."

A few moments of silence pass between them before Sam feels Steve's lips on his nipple. It doesn't do anything for him but he knows Steve just  _likes_ to do that. 

"Hey Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Can you hold me tighter?" 

He pulls his arm tighter around Steve's ridiculously small waist and feels the man's breath stutter in the tremble of his rib cage. "That's better." He sighs, pulling his leg up so it rests over Sam's and absently grazing his skin with his kiss swollen lips.


	56. Not A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not a good time right now, Steve."  
> "I'll be over in five."

"It's not a good time right now, Steve."

He hears Sam answer, sniffles and his uneven breathing clear signs of his crying. Steve stands up from his couch, turns off the TV and grabs his keys before leaving his lonely apartment. 

Already down the steps and out the front door he says, "I'll be over in five."

"No, I-" Sam takes in a shaky breath and Steve hears him sob some more, but it sounds like he's trying to do it away from the receiver. Steve straddles his bike and revs the engine before pulling into the street. In the back of his mind he knows it's extremely risky to drive with one hand, but that knowledge doesn't stop him from doing it. 

He runs about two red lights and makes it to Sam's in record timing, claiming a spot in front of his apartment and jogging up the front steps. He digs in a flower pot by the door to find the key and unlocks the door before stepping inside.

"Sam? Where are you, buddy?" He calls out, locking the door behind him and stepping into the living room. He makes his way to the kitchen and sees his friend curled up at the bottom of the fridge. There's a broken carton of eggs on the floor that it looks like Sam was in the process of putting up. His brown eyes are shaky as they look at the floor. 

Steve creeps up to him slowly and kneels in front of him, cautiously placing his hand on Sam's shoulder and swallowing the lump of pain in his throat. 

"Hey," He whispers, digging his thumb into the muscle of Sam's shoulder, "It's okay. What happened, Sammy? Tell me."

"The neighbor's kids. I was putting up the groceries and I heard." He swallows, "I thought it was a bomb going off, but it was fire crackers. Just firecrackers. I hit the deck over firecrackers." 

"You know better than anyone that doesn't mean a damn thing. Those people have the luxury of playing with fire and thinking it's fun, but we know the truth, don't we? It's not always fun knowing what it's like to smell death, but we do. Come on, let's get you to the bed, huh?"

Sam shakes his head and finally looks up at him, clearly still shaken -- his eyes only vaguely clear and reminding Steve of the shell shock he remembers back in the trenches of World War II. 

"I can't move." 

Steve clenches his jaw and tries not to think about the fact he wants to storm out the door and beat up a group of fucking  _kids_. "That's okay, that's alright. Can I carry you?"

Sam nods weakly and Steve crouches closer to get an arm around his shoulders and one under his legs before hefting him up and standing. Sam doesn't move to hold him back, but he does rest his head against Steve's shoulder. He carries him to his bedroom and lays him down. 

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just stay here." Sam says, the gratitude in his eyes despite the sadness and he rolls over onto his side. 

Steve sits down next to him and kind of lets his mind go blank. Well, he tries to anyway. He can't really stop thinking about the man next to him, how much he means to him. Steve's not used to seeing Sam apart. He's usually the most put together of the two of them -- certainly the most well settled person he knows. But he supposes everyone has their own burden to carry and it's wrong to think Sam's any different.

Somewhere in the midst of it all he falls asleep and when he wakes up hours or minutes later Sam's wrapped around him and he can't bear to leave. Not that he would want to. He's just happy to be here, as long as it's what Sam needs.


	57. Ringside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a boxer and Steve is his very supportive boyfriend.

Steve takes Sam’s face in his hands and sits on his lap, he leans their foreheads together and peers up at him through his lashes.

“How ya feelin’?”

“Focused for now, even your ass isn’t distracting me.”

Steve laughs and rubs their noses together, “I’ll try not to take offense to that. Just don’t get beat up too much, okay?”

Sam’s coach interrupts him before he can get another word out. “Okay, they’re ready for you, Sam. Steve, don’t be distracting my boy.”

“No, sir.” He replies, standing up and making Sam smiles up at him. “I wouldn’t  _ dream  _ of doing that.” 

Steve grins and kisses goodbye to Sam’s face as he knows it. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

“You’ll be there, right?”

He nods. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Sam flashes a cocky smile and walks out with his coach and team. 

A few minutes later Steve makes his way to his front row seat where he’ll wince at every hit, but cheer his boyfriend on none the less. At least he doesn’t look through his fingers anymore. Sam’s admittedly very proud of him for that feat, as if it comes anywhere close to being the first openly gay African-American boxer. 

He smiles as he comes to sit next to his friends, one of the rare occasions all of them are free on the same night. Natasha elbows him with a knowing look in her eye, which is really just her defalult expression.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Steve nods, but nervously rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans. He always gets more worked over Sam’s fights than Sam does, a fact his boyfriend thinks is hilarious. Tonight his bout is against Maui Montella — a Hawaiian fighter quickly rising through the ranks. He’s only had two losses in his short career, but Steve’s not particularly worried.

He shrugs, loosening up his shoulders as he watches Sam enter the ring and the crowd’s deafening roar around him. 

“I think I’m gonna be okay. Let’s just hope it’s not a 12-rounder. Sam hates those.”

Steve sees Sam looking for him in the crowd and eagerly waves his arms about like an idiot to get his fighter’s attention. He lights up when he sees him and gives a little imperceptible nod no one would see if his fans weren’t in love with their relationship.

Steve listens to the announcer drone on and on and can’t help but groan loudly. The guy hears him and looks taken aback, making Sam laugh along with the crowd. 

Finally he wraps it up and Sam and Maui touch gloves before the bell rings. Steve leans forward on the edge of his seat as the two begin circling each other. Sam never attacks first because he likes to get a feel for his opponent’s attack and swing style. Do they favor their left or their right? Do they like a southpaw or a killer left hook? Are they too slow on their feet or just fast enough to be dangerous? Only patience can tell.

So Maui takes the first swing which is a right hook that Sam easily ducks and returns with a slug thrown into Maui's right side. The first few minutes continue like this, Sam dodging Maui's hits and landing his own smoothly. He gets hit a few times and every time Steve winces but Sam shakes it off like it's a damn handshake and continues his jump from foot to foot. 

After some point Maui realizes attack mode only seems to help Sam and so Sam's forced to go on the offensive himself. He keeps his arms close to his sides and protects his face and ribs well. Steve's always amazed when he goes into a flurry of hits like this -- weaving from side to side with his jabbing forward rapid fire. Sam steps back from Maui's glove and uppercuts him something fierce, sending the Hawaiian into the ropes and crashing to the floor. It takes six counts before he makes it back up to his feet. Then the bell rings. 

They bump gloves again and go back to their separate corners. Sam's not that beat up other than a minor cut on his eyebrow and he smiles at Steve while swishing water around his mouth before spitting it out. 

It ends up being a three round fight -- a knock out in the first five minutes of what would be a last round when Sam finishes Maui with his famous left hook. Sam's team claps professionally, now accustomed to constant wins. 

Sam doesn't stay to answer questions. he lets his team and coach handle that before ducking through the ropes and jumping down. He comes right to him and Steve smiles, stepping over the barrier. 

He moves in for a hug and Sam scowls, protesting, "I'm all sweaty, Steve."

"Like I care." He replies, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing his damp cheek. "Good job, honey."

"Thanks. You ready?" 

Steve nods and they turn to say goodbye to their friends. Sam shakes all of their hands and thanks them like a gentleman before wrapping his arm back around Steve and leading them through the crowd. They get several shouts from excited fans and Steve blushes from all the attention he can never seem to get used to. 

"Are you tired?" He asks, already knowing the answer from how sluggishly Sam's walking and how much he's leaning on him.

Sam gives an affirming grunt in response and Steve grins at him. Sam raises an eyebrow at him and then laughs when Steve's lifting him onto his back. He makes sure to get a good grip on Sam's strong thighs before hefting him up higher. Sam puts his arms around his neck and happily lets him take care of him. Steve likes when he gets to do that.


	58. Okay, White Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are young kids at Sunday School when Steve gets in trouble for saying he's going to marry him.

Sam didn’t know why the white boy was hanging around him, but he was silent for the most part so Sam doesn’t really mind. Sunday school is pretty boring usually and at least now Sam had someone to talk to about the birds he watched at recess.

The white boy nods his blonde head earnestly at every word he says and his bangs flop with the motion. Sam lifts the bird that’s landed in his palm and looks into the boy’s shockingly blue eyes. His teeth keep nibbling on his lips and Sam asks him why he does that.

His eyes widen like he didn’t expect Sam to actually notice him and Sam laughs, shoving him playfully. “Tell me.”

“I just...it’s a nervous habit.”

“Oh, okay then. Since you can talk tell me your name. I’m Sam.”

“Steven. I go by Steve.”

Sam nods and goes back to petting the bird in his hand, holding it out to Steve so he can pet it too which he does tentatively, watching Sam the whole time. He smiles when Sam does and when the bell rings for them to go back inside Steve strokes the back of his hand with his pinky. Sam looks down at it to check if it’s a mistake or not but then Steve does it again and he finally takes the tiny hand offered to him in his own.

Steve seems to squeak happily and Sam doesn’t comment on that. Then this white boy leans over to him and whispers, “I’m gonna marry you, Sam.”

He shrugs, still looking down at their clasped hands. “Okay.”

When they’re back in class and at their own desks Steve scribbles something down on a corner of his workbook and rips it out before passing it to him.

Sam smiles at him even though he ducks his head and unfolds it carefully.

                                                        I’m gonna marry you on the beach and when we kiss doves

                                                        and butterflies are gonna fly into the sky. You can wear a

                                                        dress if you want. I won’t mind.

Sam giggles and shakes his head as his belly gets light and floaty with the same butterflies his stupid white boy’s talking about. He’s about to write his response when a throat clears above him and Sam slowly looks up into Mrs. Andover’s stern face. 

She holds out her hand and when Sam doesn’t give it to her, snatches it from his tiny grasp. He bites his tongue to keep from shouting at her. Instead he watches her brows furrow before she gasps and glares at him. 

“Who gave you this note, Samuel?”

“It’s Sam, and I’m not telling you.”

“Then you will be held accountable for their actions.”

He sees Steve shaking his head out the corner of his eye, but ignores him. But then he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he looks up at their teacher bravely.

“It was me. I passed the note to him. I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Andover turns to him and replies, “For passing the note in the first place or for what it says?”

Steve frowns at her and cocks his head. “Why would I apologize for what the note says?”

“Because two boys marrying each other is  _ wrong _ , Steven. I have no option but to reprimand you. Come now.”

Sam tries to give him a brave face, but Steve still looks scared as he walks to the front of the classroom. When he bends over in front of the chalkboard his eyes are set and defiant. Sam’s glad he didn’t apologize for what he wrote him. He would’ve been hurt if he had.

The teacher spanks him five times with the yardstick and Steve’s eyes water but they don’t fall. When it’s over Steve returns to his seat rubbing his tail end but still smiling at Sam when he sits down. 

“I’m still gonna marry you.” He whispers when their lesson starts. He shrugs, “You don’t sit when you say your I dos anyway — everyone knows that.”

Sam smiles. “Okay, white boy.”


	59. Sounds of Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam loves the sounds Steve makes in bed. Yeah. Yeah, that's it. That's all this is.

Sam loves the sounds Steve makes in bed. Sometimes they make him laugh in the middle of the act and he’ll have to stop and rest his head against Steve’s chest. Steve will just shake his head at him, befuddled but amused. 

“What?” He’ll ask, breathless.

“Nothing, man. I’m sorry.” Sam replies, moving his hips again and grinding more sounds out of his man. 

Steve makes sounds that you would never think could come out of a guy his size: little whimpers, faint whines, and whistling gasps. His eyes trembling beneath their lids with his beautiful lashes brushing flushed cheeks, his lips parted and spit-slicked, red and swollen from kisses Sam didn’t hold back on. 

It’s as if everything that makes Steve  _ Steve _ is dialed up to a hundred when they're pleasing each other. The muscles of his chest glistening under a sheen of sweat as he writhers and arches beneath him. His blonde hair mused and dark with sweat, Steve’s usually clear blue eyes turned gleaming and hazy with want as his hands seek out every part of Sam he can reach. 

And Steve’s face. Sam watches that the most, he used to find the actual motion of sex the most intriguing part, but Steve has ruined all of that for him. Sam knows in the back of his mind he’ll never be able to take another lover after having Steve — if he’s ever doomed to leave the man. 

He’s too expressive, reacting to every move Sam makes. His eyes will widen or his eyebrows will peak up to point towards his hairline, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ when Sam moves his hips a certain way. 

And from day-to-day Steve’s a chaste guy you could bring around your mother, but in sex he’s a seasoned sailor. Sam kind of loves that on a good night there’s a constant stream of profanities leaving Steve’s lips and his legs are shaking from their place around his hips. 

Tonight is one of those nights and Steve is pulling out all the stops — making every noise, and expression imaginable. His toes are curling at Sam’s sides and he’s managed to rip two holes in their mattress. They finish together after an hour of hard labor and Sam collapses onto his side. 

“Fuck.” Steve breathes, his chest heaving, still twitching beneath the sheets.

“Yeah.” Sam replies, both of them staring up at the ceiling. 

Steve rolls over and throws an arm over him, biting his shoulder with a ditzy sounding laugh. 

“Dare I say it, I think that was the best we’ve ever had, baby. Damn good job.”

“Thank you.” Sam says, turning an eye to him, “You liked it?”

Steve pulls his brow down and pushes out his lips, “Loved it. It was...yeah. The best. I’m really sleepy though.”

And true to his word Steve scoots closer and passes out a few seconds later on Sam’s shoulder. Sam smiles and runs a hand through his slick hair, kissing the crown of his head and pulling the sheets over them. 

On his way to sleep Sam seriously considers marking the date on their calendar. Maybe they can have a special greatest-sex-of-our-natural-born-lives anniversary. It’s worth a try at least.


	60. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a waiter at a diner and one late night Steve walks in and instantly falls for him. He ends up asking when he gets off and waiting for that time even though it's an hour away.

Sam's wiping down a table in the back when the bell chimes from it's rightful spot over the door. "I'll be right with you!" He shouts, setting the table again with ketchup, sugar packets, salt and pepper. 

He unclips the notepad from his apron and walks over to the corner booth their new patron has picked. When he looks up he's a little taken aback by how ridiculously handsome the guy is with his blue eyes and blonde hair, but he quickly tries to recover.

"Good morning, sir, what would you like today?"

The man winces as if he's insulted him and replies, "Yeah, I guess two in the morning is still the morning. I'll just take a coffee."

"You sure? Our menu's right there, and as a black man who likes to cook I can tell you it's not that bad."

"Well that depends," The man says, looking down at the table like he's sharing a secret as a smirk comes over his face. He looks up at him and says, "Are you on the menu?"

Sam snorts in his surprise and the man's smirk widens into a smile at full wattage. He shakes his head a little in disbelief and they laugh together. 

"Wow, man, I gotta admit that was smooth. But no, I'm not on the menu, play boy." Sam replies, eager to see what the man will give him next. 

"Well when do you get off," He leans forward to read his name tag, "Sam?"

"I have an hour to go unfortunately for you."

"Who says that's a bad thing?" He leans around him and looks at the expanse of the diner. "How many of these tables have you cleaned?"

Sam frowns in confusion, not sure where he's going with this but answers, "Two, why?"

"Then that means you have a lot more work to do that requires stretching, am I right? These tables do seem pretty big, and that means I'm a very luck man tonight."

Sam laughs again. "Wow, you're  _really_ not holding back, are you? Can I get a name for the coffee?"

"Sure." He sticks his hand out, "Steve." 

They shake hands, Steve holding his a beat too long but not appearing apologetic about it for a second. "I'm surprised you didn't tack on a line about being my future husband after that name drop."

Steve laughs and shakes his head, "Trust me, it took restraint, but at least you know where this is headed, huh?"

Sam laughs again, feeling heat burn in his cheeks. "You're too much, man. I'm gonna put a fresh pot on and get started on these tables, alright?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Yeah I bet a peepshow sounds good to just about anyone." He bounces back, walking away as Steve starts to laugh at him again. 

When he makes it to the counter the chef, Doris, is leering at him through the window. Her red hair is voluminous and picture perfect for the seventies with its swept back bangs and framing curls. She pops her gum and raises an eyebrow.

"I thought I was cookin' up somethin' good back here, but it looks like you've bested me, Wilson." She pulls herself up on the counter to look back at Steve in his corner booth. "Who's Mr. Perfect, huh?"

"His name is Steve. Asked if I was on the menu." He replies, emptying the coffee pot and putting fresh grounds in.

"Oh, he's a dangerous one, is he?"

Sam scoffs, flipping his towel over his shoulder, "Aren't they all?" 

Doris gives him her squeaky beloved laugh at that and Sam goes back to the table he had been cleaning when Steve walked in.

He grabs the spray bottle and moves to the next one, quickly spraying it and about to wipe it down when he remembers the man he's been flirting with and checks over his shoulder. Steve is staring at him clear and plain as day and he just grins when he's caught and nods his head for Sam to continue. He shakes his head and drops his cloth down before stretching to get the length of the table. 

A wolf whistle sounds and Sam's honestly not sure if it's from Doris or Steve. He gives a wriggle of his hips just to hear both of their laughter and carries on with his work. 

It's a slow hour that Steve gets a pretty decent show of, only interrupted by three patrons -- all veterans Sam has swapped a few war stories or two with. He can usually tell just from looking when a man's stepped foot on a battleground. He gets the same feeling from Steve. After seating an old regular named Charlie he makes his way back over to the man.

Sitting down across from him he says, "You know, the people who come in here at this time of night usually all have the same reason. I'm guessing you're no different. If you ever want an ear that knows what you've been through you can always try Charlie. Otherwise he'll talk Doris's ear off, not that she'll mind of course."

Steve scowls down at his hands that are burning themselves on the mug of his fresh coffee and asks, "How can you tell?"

"Other than you being here at two AM instead of in a bed that's probably too soft? You walk like you're waiting for someone to deck you. I know that gait because it took me two years to get rid of it myself."

Steve looks up at him then, his eyes alight with obvious relief. "Sorry. I shouldn't be so happy you understand." Steve shakes his head and raises a hand, "I couldn't tell by the way."

Sam nods proudly, "Good." Sam takes one of the menus from Steve's table and lets it fall open. "I have two minutes left until I'm off the clock. I'm gonna get something to go because I'm exhausted, but I'm going to give you my number and hope I see you again at a more decent hour. That alright with you?"

"Yeah, that's just fine with me." Steve answers, smiling earnestly and reaching across the table to take Sam's hand.

He smiles and turns his palm upwards so their fingers can entwine and Steve blushes a rosy red.


	61. The Gift of Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a Tumblr ask where a girl experienced this with her boyfriend.

Sam still remembers that day like it just passed a moment ago. When he had bent over to tie his shoe and Buster took off, his leash flapping uselessly behind him. When Sam had looked up he was already mid-leap toward an unfortunate young man who was simply reading his book in the damn park. 

The thing he remembers most is how the man had looked surprised but had made no sound when he'd been tackled back. Sam quickly ran after his damn dog and pulled him off the man who he was already eagerly licking in the face.

"Sorry," He says, the man looking up at him as he dusted off his shirt, "If anyone's on ground level he thinks they're fair game. I'm too much of a softie to send him to obedience school like I should."

The man nods and begins to sign ASL. Sam's eyes widen in shock before he starts watching the signs the man's giving.

_It's fine. He's really cute anyway, and I haven't gotten kissed in a while._

Sam nods and has to think a second before responding. He's a little rusty, it's been awhile since he graduated from his online class.

He speaks the words while also signing them. "Oh okay, that's good. I'm still sorry though. Excuse me if my gestures are choppy -- it's been a long time since I've had to pull this out."

 _I'm just happy you know it._ The man replies, positively beaming.  _My name is S-T-E-V-E._

"I'm Sam, and this is Buster."

And that had been that, well a few weeks of hopeless flirting had to pass before Steve could actually catch onto the fact Sam had been asking him out for  _weeks_ now. But he caught on eventually and soon said yes.

They're in their fifth month of dating, walking hand in hand down the street with Buster trailing ahead of them when Sam notices the blush on Steve's face. He's looking at the ground and tripping over his feet more than usual and Sam's absently wondering what's the matter. 

They make it to the front door of his townhouse and Steve stops him from digging the key out of his back pocket. 

Sam smiles and watches Steve clear his throat -- an act he's never heard him do before. He's had no reason to. He looks up with his blue eyes steely and determined and opens his pretty pink lips.

"I've been wanting to say this for a long time. I - ahem -- I love you, Sam Wilson...very,  _very_ much. I just wanted you to hear me say that."

His voice is cracking and wavering but deep and somehow familiar. Sam doesn't know he's even close to crying until the tears are already falling down his cheeks. He shakes his head and covers his mouth with his hand.

"I don't know what to say. You sound so beautiful, Steve. How...how did you... _do_ that?"

He clears his throat and opens his mouth but shakes his head, reverting back to his sign language to explain  _I took night classes._   _But it still hurts a little bit, and it feels funny. I'm sorry._

"Don't apologize -- that was awesome. Now just let me get this door open." 

Steve laughs and he can see him sign  _Why such a hurry?_

"Cause I'm going to suck your dick, don't question me."

Steve laughs again as Sam eagerly pulls him through the door. 


	62. Dining Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are having a very fancy dinner together with a journalist from a magazine and Sam is torturing Steve every way he knows how.

Only after five minutes Natasha leans over to Sam and whispers, "Not that I don't find this amusing because I do -- very much so, but may I ask  _why_ you're torturing that poor boy?"

"Because I can, Nat. Just sit back and enjoy the show." He replies.

Sam tips his head back and slowly swallows the rest of his wine, making sure his adam's apple is in full view and bobbing with every long draw. He exhales at the expensive taste and sets his glass down, locking eyes with Steve's across the table. His eyes are almost consumed by his pupils and he swears under his breath while looking away, loosening the tie around his neck. 

Honestly, Sam's having the time of his life. It's so easy to rile the guy up. All he has to do is look at him a certain way, push his chest out just the extra inch and Steve's gulping down the rest of his wine as if it will do a darn thing to help. 

Sam leans back in his chair with a smug smile on his face and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and arching his spine as if he's stretching. He hears a crunch and raises his lids to see the stem of Steve's wine glass has snapped between his fingers. He hardly seems to notice until a waiter is at his side, taking it from his grasp and offering him a new one just as fragile. 

Steve clears his throat and blushes under the stares from his teammates before quickly excusing himself. Sam laughs to himself and Natasha joins in with a sly look in her eyes. She's enjoying the game too even though she's not a part of it. He supposes it is pretty entertaining. 

Steve's gone for a good ten minutes and when he comes back his tie is wrapped tightly around his hand and his hair is a little mused and damp probably from splashing water on his face. The rest of the dinner he tries to avoid Sam's side of the table completely, but does a sorry job of it.

He misses all the journalist's questions at least once and breaks two more glasses, making their waiter reluctant to give him another one. Finally Sam takes pity on him and catches his eye, tipping his head back toward the restrooms before standing up and excusing himself.

In the restroom he lifts himself up onto the counter and makes himself comfortable and five minutes later exactly Steve is barging through the door with a very stern scowl on his face -- a scowl Sam usually only sees in battle with Captain America.

 _"Sam."_ His voice is commanding and hard as walks right up to him and between his thighs, placing either hand on the counter next to Sam's hips. Sam smiles down at him with a cocky grin and trails his hands up the sides of Steve's suit jacket.

"Steve."

"What the  _hell_ are you trying to do out there, give me a damn aneurysm?" He hisses, leaning forward so their noses are side by side, their eyes peering into each other. 

"No. I was just having a little fun."

"Well your  _'fun'_ made me have to jerk off in a five star restaurant's bathroom and break three fucking wine glasses. I'm pretty sure that waiter hates me by now."

"Why are we talking about some dumb waiter when we're alone together, Steve?" Sam asks, raising his leg so his knee presses against Steve, making him rise onto his toes with a gasp. 

"Sam, you're playing a dangerous game here." He says, his eyes as sober as they've been all night.

"Am I? I think I'm pretty aware of that." Sam replies, pulling him close and whispering into his neck, "Wouldn't it be fun if you took me right here and right now? It'd be a fun story to know Captain America has no form of self control when it comes to things he wants, wouldn't it?"

Steve's hands lift him up at that and Sam tosses his head back to laugh as he leads him to a stall. 


	63. Catholic School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are two boys in love, too bad they both go to a very strict Catholic School and have to sneak around.

Sam only has to wait about three minutes before the janitor's closet is being opened and his boyfriend is slipping through the door. Steve's blonde hair is perfectly parted and brushed to the side and Sam feels his heart jump at the thought of messing it up.

Steve's blue eyes look up and he smiles as he comes close. "Hey," He whispers, pressing their bodies together and resting his head against Sam's shoulder.

Sam lifts his arms up to hold him back and they stay like that for a few minutes to breathe each other in. 

"You miss me, huh?" Sam asks, smug as if he hadn't been feeling exactly the same.

"Mmhm." Steve hums, nodding against his shoulder and trying to move even closer to him. "I'm so ready for the summer, Sam. I can go back with you, right? Meet your family and all that?"

"Yeah, of course." 

Steve lifts his head and quickly shoves their mouths together with a sigh. His hands come up to hold Sam's face and Steve tilts his to kiss him more thoroughly. Sam pushes at Steve's crested sweater vest as their tongues come together, untucking his dress shirt to run his palms up the smooth skin of Steve's stomach. He can feel the other's ribs twitch and shudder at the movement and Steve pulls away to laugh breathlessly.

"Ticklish." He explains, diving back in to kiss him again instead of moving his hands. 

Sam moves them himself to tug at Steve's belt loops and Steve giggles between kisses to joke and tease him. 

"This is so  _bad_ , Sam. Two boys should  _never_ be together like this."

"You wanna stop? You could easily be doing this with that girl from Home Ec -- she's been crushing on you for ages. I'm actually starting to feel a little sorry for her." Sam replies.

Steve scoffs and runs his hands over Sam again, "Don't. Nothing could make me want to stop seeing you. If I believed a fraction of the shit this school feeds us I'd willingly go to hell for you."

Sam scoffs this time, letting Steve kiss down his neck. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. I'm sure Satan's a pretty cool guy anyway. He'd probably let us neck each other in the middle of our damnation." Steve jokes, grinning brightly and proud when Sam tips his head back to laugh. 

Sam abruptly stops laughing when he feels Steve's fingers on his belt buckle, quickly undoing it and the button to his khakis before sinking to his knees. Sam tries to stop him, but Steve just shakes his head determinedly.

"Steve, stop -- we don't have time."

"The janitor fucking loves us, Sam -- there's always time. Besides, I just wanna taste, okay? Something to hold me through the rest of day -- that's all." 

And Sam thinks it's completely sinister that Steve can say something so dirty and sexual like that with the face of an angel, his blue eyes clear and completely innocent. 

He sighs, relenting and letting his head fall back as Steve pulls him out of his boxers. "Okay."

As Steve begins Sam reasons to himself maybe Catholic School isn't so bad as long as closet blow jobs exist. 


	64. The Matter of Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets an eyeful when he knocks on Sam's door and the only response he gets is, "I was expecting someone else."

This would've easily been the best day of Steve's life if Sam had said literally  _anything_ else while pulling his robe on.

"Sorry, I was expecting someone else."

Someone else?  _SOmeone ELSE?!_ Steve removes his hand from the door frame in order not to splinter the wood and tries to control himself. Who was Sam expecting if he opened the damn door  _naked?_  

"Who, um, who were you expecting?"

"Just a friend. He said he'd be coming over soon and I just thought, well, yeah. Sorry about that, Steve."

"You're fine." He replies.

"So anyway, did you want to talk about something, or was it your plan to catch me butt-ass naked the whole time?" Sam asks, smirking at him as if it's no big deal.

Steve racks his brain for a few desperate moments but comes up empty. All he can bear to think about is who the hell Sam's mystery guest could be. He shakes his head and flops a hand uselessly.

"I lost it. I  _did_ come over for something, though -- I promise. I'll catch you later, Sam."

"No problem." His friend replies, but Steve can see the confusion written clearly all over his face. Whatever, he'll deal with it later, right now he has talk to someone about this. Someone that could help him possibly.

* * *

 

"So you're here because Sam probably has a fuck buddy of some sort and you want me to figure out who?" Natasha asks, sipping the tea she made for them with an unimpressed expression. 

"Yeah." Steve nods. 

"At least you've admitted you finally like the guy. Your denial was driving me crazy, Rogers." Nat finishes the rest of her tea and reaches across for his untouched cup. 

He watches her dip the tea bag in and out of it a few times before finally sighing as if highly put upon. "Fine, I'll do a little spying for you, Rogers. But it's gonna cost you."

"Thanks. And I agree, just tell me what you want and I'll do it."

"As soon as I find out who it is you have to promise me to make a move on Sam and end it."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Sam deserves more than some random guy -- if he  _is_ some random guy. Let's hope you haven't lost your window, Cap."

Steve nods at that, thanking her one last time before leaving. 

* * *

 

Less than a week later Natasha tells him it's another counselor at the VA center, but it doesn't look all that serious. No dates in public, and no phone calls other than to arrange meetings for sex. Sex seems like the one priority of the relationship. She ends the call by saying, "Now it's time to make your move, Steve. Don't blow all my hard work."

He doesn't mention how he doubts it was even remotely challenging for her but simply promises to give it a try. 

Which brings him to Sam's door at eight o'clock that very night. Sam opens the door clothed in boxers and a hoodie and smiles at him before stepping aside. Steve nods and steps in, not really sure where to do this or if the place even matters.

"Hey, Steve. I wasn't expecting anyone tonight. You want something to eat, or..?"

"No, um...I just have something I need to talk to you about."

Sam's face kind of closes up and Steve adds, "It's nothing bad, well, hopefully you'll think that too when I'm done. Just -- listen, please."

"Yeah, man, sure." Sam answers, leaning against his kitchen counter and crossing his arms. 

"I don't have a good track history with things like this mostly cause I never had the courage to  _think_ about this moment let alone  _do_ it but...Sam, the other day when you opened the door naked I thought it was the best day of my life second to meeting you. And then you said you were expecting someone and that really stuck with me in a bad way. I know I had no right to be upset or jealous because I never made a move on you and you're not mine, but I'm now formally asking for the right to be jealous over you expecting someone else completely naked.

"I like you a lot. I have ever since I first ran past you on the Mall, and I should've told you sooner but it seems like the world just kept getting in the way and I didn't know how to tell you. Even when things died down I just..." He shrugs, not daring to look up, "Let it go I guess. But not anymore. I like you and I'd like to take you out some time and treat you right."

Steve nods to himself and before he can dare to look up he's being pushed against the front door, lips urgently pressing against his. He hums in surprise and wraps his arms around Sam's body, stretching forward to get more of Sam into his mouth, chasing him when he starts to pull away.

"Damn, Steve, that was one hell of a speech. That makes me want to watch Jerry Maguire and all sorts of romantic shit."

Steve grins and tightens his arms around Sam's waist, the man's face resting against the crook of his neck with his warm breath fanning out against his skin. 

"Guess this means I have to break off the thing with Mark."

Sam leans back then and squints up at him. "Don't think I didn't notice being tailed either. Natasha is good but I've become way too paranoid for even  _her_ shenanigans. I'm glad you care though."

He smiles and kisses him again. Steve's glad he cares too, especially if it led him here.


	65. Pillow Talk From A Thousand Miles Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's on a mission and is feeling pretty lonely.

It takes a whole two seconds for Sam to pick up the phone and as soon as he says, "Hey." Steve feels a rush of relief wash over his whole body.

"Hey." He replies, turning over in his bed somewhere in fucking Siberia and pulling the blankets tighter around him.

"What's up? How's the mission going?"

"What? Oh, fine, I guess."

"Do you need anything?" Sam asks. 

Steve huffs and whispers back, "No. I just miss you, miss your voice, miss holding you too. Nat keeps making fun of me for it. Says I'm weak."

"Well you told her I said to leave my big, strong man alone." Steve laughs. "So what, you just want me to talk to you a little bit?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I was hoping maybe you could talk me to sleep. I'm having trouble without you here."

"No problem, baby -- Daddy's got you."

Steve blushes and hears Sam start to fiddle around a little bit -- he's probably making popcorn. He loves popcorn. 

"So do you have any topic in mind or do I have free reign here?"

"You could talk about the shape and texture of your shit and I'd be happy, Sam. Say anything."

Steve smiles when Sam's laugh filters through the phone and pulls his knees to his chest. 

"Okay, play boy. Well, Lola's taken up origami and it got me thinking -- how the fuck did someone figure out how to make three dimensional figures by folding paper? Like, do you know how ridiculous and crazy that sounds? Some dude in Asia really sat down and figured that shit out. And  _another_ question I have is, was it genuinely for fun or was he just bored out of his mind and fooling around when suddenly he had a fucking paper crane in his hand."

Steve laughs and Sam continues to rant about the absurd origins of origami for a good five more minutes. Steve puts his phone on speaker and lays it next to his pillow. He turns out the light and tries to get more comfortable with the sound of his husband's voice filling his room and making it seem a little less cold and empty. 

"You haven't nodded off already, have you?" Sam asks after ten minutes of his uninterrupted rambling passes.

"No. I'm still here, Sammy. What'd the kids do today? Are they still mad at me?" He asks, his heart hurting at the thought. Lola and Margie had begun to scream and hit at him when he told them he was going away again so soon after the last mission. Lola he had expected, but Margie had never yelled at him like that, and they had said some pretty terrible things. 

He had tried to reason with himself but ended up crying in their bedroom later on and Sam had to come and hold him a little while so he could calm down. Even though he knew they didn't  _really_ hate him it still hurt to hear them say it with such seriousness in their eyes. 

Sam tisks over the phone and Steve can easily imagine his scowl. "No, I fussed them out really well over that. They cried too, and they made you some cards and everything saying how sorry they were. That won't happen again, Steve, but maybe you really should do that thing we've been talking about. It's not like the world is going to fall apart as soon as Captain America becomes Bucky and Steve is just Steve. He's better now and him and Nat are pretty set on not having any children, it really could be better with him holding that shield and not you." 

"Yeah, I know. I thought about it too. I don't like being away from our girls, and they know that. I don't like them being mad at me either. Part of me just wants to give up the fight and come home to you guys. I'll talk to the rest of the team about it, I'm sure they'll see it coming anyway."

"Okay. Hey, I'm getting kind of sleepy over here. I'm not gonna hang up but maybe you can fall asleep to just hearing me breathe and knowing I'm holding a big ole body pillow over here."

Steve laughs and turns the volume up on his phone. "Okay. Goodnight Sammy, I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Goodnight."

And Steve does fall asleep, matching his breaths to his love's all the way across the world and slipping away with the Sandman.


	66. Sam's Mafia Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 1925 and the 20s are thriving. Steve is the most powerful mafia man in Chicago and Sam is his best guy.

After catching the eye of  _the_ Steven Rogers, Sam's quickly gotten used to the idea of being the only black guy in top notch, five-star restaurants. Anyone who's brave or stupid enough to tell Steve his date can't come in the front door, or can't come in at all is met with a snap of Steve's fingers and they're quickly "taken care" of outside in their own back alley. 

Whenever this happens Steve just smiles at him and bows, lifting a grand arm and holding open the door for him as if he's royalty. Sam blushes and enters through the front door of a place that normally wouldn't serve him a crumb. 

They take a table in the center and bustle of things and Steve moves the chair so it's closer to his own before pulling it out for him. 

"There you go, doll." 

"Thank you." He replies, taking his seat so everyone else can sit. Steve treats him like a real lady and any henchmen of his who doesn't gets the boot if not the blade. Sam doesn't really know what he did all those months ago in a speakeasy that caught the mobster's attention. He had simply been taking his drinks at the bar and talking to his friend. 

He had leaned into kiss him and then suddenly the guy was being yanked away from him and thrown to the ground. Sam had sputtered and stood up as his friend was stomped on, looking quick around the room he found the man who seemed eerily calm and staring at him and pointed. "Stop this,  _right_ now." He had said and the man had snapped his fingers for his men to relent. After checking to make sure his friend was still alright Sam had marched over to the man and given him a piece of his mind.

He'll never forget the surprise that had come over Steve's face then before his expression became impressed. Sam hadn't known that no one ever talked to Steve Rogers like that -- how could he have? He was a good guy who kept his nose impeccably clean. He knew nothing about the dark side of Chicago. But then Steve had smiled at him and said, "I'd like to take you out sometime. Make it up to you, if I can. Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"Even better, the name's Rogers, Steve Rogers."

"Sam Wilson." 

And that had been that. 

Now everyone knew his name as the one who went steady with Steve Rogers, and he was treated well even when  _not_ with the mobster. He could eat in almost any restaurant he chose and pretty much had free reign in America's most roaring city. Sam has to admit staying with Steve Rogers definitely has its perks.

He lifts his glass of champagne and takes a sip of it before looking up at the man next to him. Steve's watching him like he always is -- his eyes hooded amongst the smoke of the place, but not lustful. 

"You enjoying yourself? You look a little forlorn."

"I was just thinking." Sam replies, tipping his flute around so the sparkling liquid dips and sways. 

Steve leans forward and takes his free hand on top of the table, his knee brushing his underneath it. "About what?"

"If I ever left you," Sam starts, looking up in time to see the fear throb in Steve's gaze, "Would you kill me?"

"Why would you be thinking about something like that, Sam? Of course I wouldn't kill you. I could never forgive myself if I did."

"You promise?"

Steve nods earnestly and grips his hand harder, rubbing his thumbs over the rise and fall of his knuckles. "Positive."

Sam nods, and is about to take another sip of his champagne when Steve's hand squeezes his again and he stops.

"You're not..." Steve swallows and looks down at their hands, "Thinking of leaving me, are you?"

And the naked vulnerability in Steve's eyes makes Sam feel bad, he's never seen him look so scared before even in situations where he  _should_ be scared, Steve is usually cool, calm, and collected.

Sam shakes his head and leans over to give his mobster a kiss. "No, baby, I'm not. I was just wondering about stupid stuff."

Steve holds him close and whispers against his neck, "You scared me, doll."

"Yeah, I could tell."

"You don't feel...trapped, do you? Because I can give you some space if you need it. I won't mind. It will be hard, but I'll do it." 

"No, you don't have to do that, baby. I'm fine. Just the other day someone told me my situation was like Schrodinger's cat and as soon as I left you, you'd kill me. I just wanted to know if I was trapped or not. That's all."

Steve leans away from him with his brow lowered and that cold, dangerous look in his eyes. Sam doesn't like to see that look.

"Who?"

"I'm not going to tell you, Steve. You'll just rough 'em up. They're my friend, now get that look off your face when we're at dinner."

Steve scrunches his nose up, "What look?"

"Your mobster look, the look you get when someone owes you money or before you have to break a few bones. Your eyes go cold and I don't like it."

Sam takes a stab at his steak, but Steve stops him and slides the plate his way, cutting it up for him and feeding him like he's a damn infant. Sam doesn't say anything though because it's rare moments when Steve is this loving in public. Away from prying eyes he's a softie, but in public he tries to keep it mildly professional. 

Steve smiles at him and tugs him forward for another kiss. Sam bites his lip and Steve hisses before pulling away and swiftly calling for the check. Sam can tell he's going to pay for that in bed later on tonight, and that's precisely what he wants. Then again with Steve all he has to do his ask and the world is his. The mobster might send fear into the hearts of wise men but with Sam he's something completely different. For Sam he would do anything.


	67. A Bad Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up to an empty bed and goes to the basement to see his husband pummeling the hell out of a poor punching bag. So it's one of those nights.

Sam rolls over and flops a hand out onto what he thinks will be Steve's fuzzy chest but instead is met by cold sheets. He blearily opens his eyes to the empty space next to him and heaves a sigh. He has half a mind to roll over and go back to sleep, but something tells him Steve needs him right now, and Sam will be damned if this isn't one of the exact reasons he married the man.

He pulls himself up and swings his legs out of bed, shoving his feet into his slippers before shuffling across their bedroom to the door. He checks on the girls to make sure they're still sleeping, and other than Lola sneaking into Margie's bed all is normal there at least. 

Sam shuffles out of the hall and into the living room right over to the door in the corner that leads to their basement. He opens it to the sounds of Steve beating up his punching bag and quickly slumps down the stairs. He leans against the exposed brick wall and watches Steve mercilessly batter the bag. A few minutes pass before Steve stops and begins to unwrap his hands. He looks over to his right and does a double take at seeing Sam there. 

"Oh, hey." He says, his voice raspy in between his pants.

"You havin' fun down here?" Sam asks, stepping over to him with his arms crossed.

Steve's jaw locks and his eyes flicker between Sam's and the floor as they fill with tears. A single sob escapes and Sam opens his arms gladly. Steve ducks into them and another sob racks his chest. 

Sam holds the back of his head and pulls him close, shushing him. Though a few minutes later he proves to be too late because the door above the stairs creaks open and both Margie and Lola come creeping down. 

Steve sniffs and tries to wipe his face, standing away from Sam even though it looks like the act kills him even as he does it.

"Hey girls." He says, and his voice is thin and hoarse.

They don't respond other than by coming over and hugging him where they can reach. Margie gets his stomach while Lola wraps her tiny arms around his knees. Steve laughs mirthlessly and starts to cry again.

"It's alright, Papi. Don't cry." 

Steve sinks down so he can hug them better and takes Sam's hand. "I'm sorry, girls. You shouldn't have to see me like this." He whispers. And Sam opens his mouth just to tell him how foolish that is but Lola beats him to it.

"I might get in trouble for this later, but shut up. You sound stupid. Everyone gets sad sometimes."

"Yeah," Margie adds, "I'm pretty sure even Bucky gets sad sometimes and he's a dog."

Steve laughs and pulls the two of them into his lap, kissing the tops of their heads sweetly. "God, I love you guys. I'm sorry, just --" He wipes his eyes some more and picks them up as he makes it back to his feet. "Let me tuck you back into bed, okay? I didn't mean to wake you up."

Sam watches his husband carry the two of them back to their rooms, trailing behind and not really wanting to get in the way of their moment together. With Steve still going on missions it's hard for them to be together like this. 

Steve kisses them both again and whispers good night before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. He gives Sam a tired, wan smile. 

Sam gets an arm around him and Steve leans on him heavily as they walk back to their own room. Sam lies Steve down first and tucks him in before sliding in next to him. Steve reaches for him with both hands and Sam lets himself be pulled back as a little spoon.

"We're gonna be alright, Steve. Just know that, okay?"

"Yeah...it's hard sometimes."

Sam kisses the hand wrapped around him and turns in Steve's arms. "Yeah, it will be from time to time. But you've gone for months without feeling like this again and that counts for something, doesn't it? Don't forget that. And even if you're not proud of yourself just know that I am."

Steve's eyes water again and he inches forward to give Sam a tentative kiss that's nothing more than a brush of lips. But it's what he needs as he slips his head onto Sam's shoulder and starts to breathe easy again.


	68. Love Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is drunk and complaining about his lack of a love life while Steve takes care of him.

Steve swallows as Sam lays down with his head in his lap with a groan. He throws an arm over his eyes and begins to speak.

"I hate being single sometimes, you know that, Steve? All a guy wants is a kiss or a hug every now and then but I have no one to go to for that. All I want to do is eat ice cream and listen to some Adele right now --  _that's_ how sad and pathetic I feel."

Steve frowns, but doesn't really know what to say. "You're not pathetic, Sam, everyone feels lonely at times."

Sam moves his arm and looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? You might be right about that last thing but I  _am_ pathetic. I've been crushing on the same guy for over a year now and I still haven't made a move yet."

Steve's taken aback by that and his heart thumps in his chest before seeming to glaze over numbly. He doesn't want to know who's lucky enough to be the apple of Sam's eye if it's not him. 

"Well, maybe you should just tell him how you feel and put yourself out of your misery." Steve says, even though he's sure his misery will begin as soon as he sees Sam walking around with another guy on his arm.

Sam turns to look up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, okay then. I like you, Steve. Obviously we can't really do anything about it right now because I probably won't remember this in the morning, but -- there you go. I like you."

"Oh. You were talking about me?"

Sam yawns and nods his head against his lap before settling in further. It's not long before he's letting out little snores and Steve smiles to himself from where he's trapped on his own couch. 

He carries Sam to bed and takes his shoes off along with the rest of his clothes, leaving on his boxers. He pulls the sheets up over him before joining him in bed even though Steve can't see  _how_ he could possibly go to sleep knowing Sam likes him as well. He settles for staring at his friend until morning. 

As soon as the sun comes up Steve makes a nice pot of coffee and sets out some painkillers for Sam whenever he wakes up. He only has to wait a few minutes before that happens. 

Sam comes out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes and Steve slides him a mug full across the counter.

"Thanks." Sam replies, taking a sip and swallowing the two pills he has in his hand. 

He looks up and raises an eyebrow at Steve's staring at him. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

Sam's face falls and he looks rightly horrified before shaking his head. "Why, did I do something horribly embarrassing that could jeopardize our friendship?"

"No, but you said you liked me, and I just wanted to tell you I feel the same -- if it's not too late."

"Oh, really? Well high-five for drunk me, am I right?"

Steve blushes at his smile and shifts foot to foot. "I was wondering if I could kiss you now, if you're not too hungover."

"I'm never too hungover for a kiss from you, Rogers. Get over here."

Steve grins and steps over to him, leaning against the counter as Sam takes his face in his hands and brushes their lips together oh so gentle like. Steve takes hold of Sam's elbows and lets himself sink into him a little bit. When Sam pulls away he swallows and bites his lips. 

"Maybe we can do some more of that later on, hm? Maybe my head will stop pounding enough to let me enjoy it."

"I hope so." Steve replies, and they share a couple of shy smiles before falling into each other once more.


	69. Wired Shut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a mission Steve gets his jaw cracked extremely bad and has to have his jaw wired shut, and Sam is the only one who can understand him during this period of time

When Steve blearily opened his eyes it felt like they had been glued shut and the first person he saw was Sam which was never a bad thing to wake up to. He smiles but before he can try to greet his husband Sam stands up and shakes his head.

"Your jaw was like --" He makes an explosion with his hands, "obliterated into gravel, Steve. It's really bad. You were in surgery for hours and I'm surprised you're up so soon, but the point is -- your jaw is wire shut. It's going to be wired shut for about a month, okay?" He turns and picks something up, "Here's your pen and pad -- try to write small, dumbass."

Steve's grumbles something with a scowl and Sam laughs at him. "Yeah, I can tell you don't appreciate that. Just write whatever you want to say on the pad, alright?"

He shrugs and gestures between them. Sam purses his lips and crosses his arms. "You think I can understand you just fine."

He nods vehemently, putting the legal pad back on the side table next to his bed. Sam shakes his head at him. "You still need it for when you talk to other people."

Steve laughs through his nose and reaches out for him, glad when Sam comes willingly. He hums the word he means and kisses Sam's cheek. 

"Fine." He sighs, pulling Steve into a hug, "I'll be your stupid translator."

The rest of the month goes pretty smoothly with this arrangement. Steve of course stays out of the field but takes time to catch up on paperwork and trivial office things that most forget come along with being a superhero. Any time anyone wants to ask him something Sam will stay loyally by his side, translating all his gestures and various pitched hums. 

The only running gag is that Sam and Steve must be incredible when it comes to charades, and who are they kidding? Of course they are. They're Sam and Steve.


	70. The Old Married Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve debate whether they should go out for their anniversary or not.

Sam watches Steve play with his fingers from where they're sprawled across his lap and tries to think of an answer to his question. The mighty old question of "should we go out tonight?" It seems simple enough on the surface, but really it's not. Sam feels a small pang of guilt however at not wanting to leave the house on their own anniversary. Seven years together feels like eternity, but not in a bad way. 

Just in the way that Sam sometimes knows what Steve's going to say before he says it. Just in the way he'll roll over at night and feel someone else there. Just in the way they'll look at each other from across one of Stark's lavish parties and know in this big bustling world you are my home. 

And it still shocks him sometimes how much Steve knows him. His knowledge reveals itself in the most mundane of ways like when he goes grocery shopping and even without Sam putting anything on the list, he'll still bring back every single thing Sam could have  _thought_ to ask for. The last time they went out for dinner Sam had gone to the bathroom and when he came back Steve had a playful look in his eyes. Sam had ignored him and ordered as usual and when he was done Steve had looked up at their shocked waitress and gloated to her. 

"What?" Sam had asked, completely lost.

"I told Sally here that you would waffle between the steak and the shrimp 'n' grits for about two minutes before deciding on a burger cause you like fries." Steve explained, slapping their waitresses' arm and nodding proudly.

Sam had shaken his head and Steve had simply said, "What can I say? I know my guy."

"Sam."

"Hm?" He looks up from their hands to see Steve staring at him curiously but in no way less loving, he actually looks quite fond. 

"I lost you there for a little bit. What's it gonna be, are we going out to celebrate seven years or are we staying in?"

Sam groans and lets his head fall back against the headboard. Steve always leaves everything up to him. "I don't know, Steve. I don't feel like driving anywhere or driving back. I don't even feel like having sex right now, and it's really sad I feel no shame in saying that."

Steve scrunches up his face and laughs at him, leaning forward to nip at his lip playfully. "That's not saying anything about me, is it?"

"No, that has nothing to do with your smokin' hot bod, but more to do about this old guy's."

Steve responds to that by kissing up the side of his face to his hairline and temples which have started sprouting grays the last couple of years. Steve swings his leg over Sam's and sinks onto his lap with a flirty smile on his face. 

"We don't say old in this house, Sam -- there's only silver  _foxes_." He hisses, making Sam laugh and pull him close as Steve starts nipping at him again and again. Sam falls back with his husband on top of him and sighs. 

"Well why don't we stay in this year -- go out with a bang the next, huh?" He whispers.

Steve kisses the place just behind his ear and rocks side to side on top of him, stupid and giddy and happy. "Whatever you say, Sam."

"You just love me don't you?" He asks, teasing as Steve finally pulls back for air. 

"You shouldn't have to ask me that after seven years. Or maybe I'm just not working hard enough, hm?"

And with that Steve starts kissing down Sam's chest with bright eyes. He can't deny they're old, but at least they still know how to have fun. 


	71. Easy Street is Overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are on the search for Bucky and Steve's feeling a little vulnerable.

Steve didn't want to wake his partner up, but telling from all the tossing and turning coming from the bed over Sam wasn't anywhere closer to sleep than he is. 

"Hey...Sam."

He grunts in response and Steve whispers, "Can I hold you?"

Steve hears Sam roll over in the dark and from the slanted moonlight sneaking through the windows he can see his brown eyes -- wide awake and alert.

"Like...hold me as a friend or?"

"Sure, as a friend." Steve answers, he doesn't want to say yes to that, but at the same time he'll say anything to get Sam over here. He nods his head and scoots over, patting the warm space he's left behind.

Sam throws his covers back and walks the small space between their beds before sliding in next to Steve. His expression is curious and slightly confused, but he gets in anyway, and that's all Steve needs. 

He shuffles forward beneath the blankets and makes sure to get Sam in his arms, turning him onto his side so he can mold their bodies together. Steve's breath puffs against the shell of Sam's ear and he can feel every breath Sam takes, his rib cage moving under his arms.

"There's no such thing as friendly cuddles, is there?" Sam asks as Steve begins lathering his neck in small kisses.

"No, I'm sure it's a thing. It just doesn't exist in this Motel 6 tonight." Steve whispers, letting his lips brush along the smooth surface of Sam's skin. 

He spreads his hands flat against Sam's chest and runs them down to the waistband of his boxers, toeing the line of the elastic before creeping back up again under the soft cotton of Sam's sleep shirt. Steve's breath hitches as his fingertips map out the curves and mounds of Sam's muscle. Sam laughs, his shoulders shaking against his front and he turns his head to catch his eye.

"You enjoying yourself, there, Cap?"

"Mmhm." Steve hums, gladly turning his head when Sam pecks him on the cheek.

Their lips brush together and Steve can't help but groan and cup the back of Sam's head as he surges forward hungrily. For months this has been all he's thought about when his mind stops worrying over Bucky. When it's not worrying over Bucky, it's lusting after Sam and vice versa. Finally, he can find relief to one demon crowding his mind, even though the Winter Soldier is still nowhere to be found. 

At the taste of Sam's tongue Steve groans and loses himself further, turning Sam over and straddling him for all he can get. Sam pushes lightly at his shoulder however and Steve forces himself to pull back.

Sam laughs in surprise, "Wow. I didn't know you were holding that much back, Steve."

He shakes his head and wills himself not to make any more advances now that he knows they will be returned. "I didn't mean to. It just kind of built up I guess."

"Are you sure you want to do all of this right now?" And Sam's gaze is serious and steady. "There's no going back from this and there's no easy street with us."

"I know that. That's why I want it." Steve pants, his heart bursting at the grin that lights Sam's face. 

Steve Rogers has never been the one for easy street anyway.


	72. Pacific Rim AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much what the title says. Steve is in place Raleigh and lost Bucky instead of his brother. Sam is his new drift partner. Nick Fury is Pentecost.

It didn't take a blind man to know that Steve was partial to the decision of him being his new drift partner. Sam wasn't too thrilled about it either all things considered. Why would he be? What sort of self-harming fuck dreamed of mind-melding with someone who's literally had someone else  _ripped_ out of their heads? That sort of thing leaves trauma and scars no one can truly see. 

Every moment Sam tries to so much as shake Steve's hand he's blown off. He can't really take it personally because there's no one who sits with Steve seeing as he takes his meals in his quarters, but still. He's stuck with the guy and they're going to have to get along somehow. Hell, they might get along well if Steve would even give him a goddamn chance. 

After dinner Sam throws away any fear he has of seeming rude or intrusive and knocks on Steve's door. The face Steve's wearing when he opens the door is proof enough no one's ever had the gall to do that before. 

"What?" He asks, gruffly.

"I'm your new drift partner whether you like it or not, asshole. I don't know if you're pissed at me or Fury for assigning me but I'm here to stay."

Steve rolls his eyes and moves to shut the door, Sam stops it with the steel toe of his boot and glares at him. "Come with me to the damn training room and have it out with me."

There's a flash of interest in his eyes but he asks, "Who says I want to have it out with you, Wilson?"

"Every goddamn thing about you. If you want people to stop treating you like a mess maybe you should start cleaning yourself up for once."

Steve squares his jaw and steps into the hall. "Now I want to fight you."

Sam scoffs, "Great. As long as you want to do something other than sulking like some kicked puppy."

The walk down to the training room is tense and silent and they both quickly get ready when they finally enter, taking off their shoes and grabbing a stick. 

They circle each other for a few minutes before Sam steps forward and swiftly swipes Steve's feet out from under him. Steve's eyes flash with something he doesn't have time to process before the guy flips onto his feet and is coming at him like a mechanical bull. 

The two spar for what feels like hours but is probably only one and in that time they find they're both pretty evenly matched. At the end they both stand across from each other panting for air and thoroughly exhausted.

"I don't know what you're so afraid of or what you're so mad at, but I can promise you that I'm not gonna try to take the place of some white boy. I don't care about all that shit you had to go through, but I am sorry it happened." Sam concedes, leveling Steve with a somber gaze.

"Okay. Thanks for saying that, and thanks for doing this. I'm sorry for acting like a such a dick to you." Steve apologizes, stretching out his hand between them.

Sam takes it with a laugh and replies, "Trust me, you're a dick to everyone."

They laugh together at that and head back to their quarters together, the silence between them suddenly companionable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add onto this later so they can actually drift, so -- stay tuned...or not cuz idk


	73. Baywatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want him to drown just so I can give him mouth-to-mouth. Is it wrong to say that?"  
> "Out loud maybe, yeah."

Being a lifeguard at a beach in Miami at the height of the summer was never Steve's plan. But ever since they saw Sandlot when they were little Bucky always wanted to be one, and they've never had a summer job away from each other so...long story short Steve's now a lifeguard. 

The two of them are relaxing under their umbrellas in their high chairs when Steve first sees him. He's a black guy who looks to be around their age, very strong and definitely summer ready. It looks like his whole family is with him, but Steve only has eyes for him. 

He quickly flings his arm out to slap Bucky beside him who starts from the contact. "Bucky! Bucky look at that guy!"

"Yeah, Steve, I see him -- stop hitting me!"

"He's fucking gorgeous. God. I never thought I would say this but I want him to drown  _just_ so I can give him mouth-to-mouth. Is it wrong to say that?"

Bucky snorts and pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. "Out loud maybe, yeah."

Steve sighs and raises his binoculars to further inspect the man. "God, this job is so boring. I wish I could just go down and talk to him. Then again, what would I say? 'Hey, I'm the lifeguard here -- isn't safety  _sexy?_ '"'

Bucky laughs and shoves at him but Steve continues to look longingly out his binoculars until suddenly the guy is staring right back at him.

"SHIT!" He shouts fumbling the binoculars out of his hands where they suffer the long drop to the sandy beach. 

"Did he see you?"

"Yeah, dammit. Hold on, let me get my binoculars." 

Steve starts climbing down the ladder, and since his back is turned he doesn't see the guy coming up to him until it's too late and he's right there. He bends over to snatch his binoculars out the sand and starts to dust them off when he bumps against something.

Slowly turning Steve finds none other than the guy he had been blatantly staring at a few minutes ago. He has a smirk on his face and his eyes are bright, so he doesn't feel so bad. 

"Hey...um, sorry about staring at you, I just...Yeah, I don't really have a good reason."

"We can go with you thought I was devilishly handsome."

He nods, "Yeah, that one, let's go with that one. I'm Steve." He sticks out his hand with a shy smile, "Lifeguard."

"Sam." They shake hands and Sam grins at him, wide, bright and disarming. Steve almost feels his knees go weak and their hands stay clasped way too long to be normal, but neither of them seems to have a problem with it.

"Can I ask for permission to stare at you some more? My shift is long and boring. It'd be nice to have something that's easy on the eyes."

Sam laughs and nods his head, "Yeah, sure. I might even forget how to swim out there just so you can come save me." He nods his head up at Bucky. "Tell your friend I said hi, huh?"

"Yeah. See ya out there." 

Sam gives him one last smile before kissing the back of his hand and jogging off back to his family. Steve blushes and fiddles with the various knobs on his binoculars, unable to take his eyes away. 

It looks like Sam gets a little ribbing from his sister who he shoves playfully. 

Steve climbs back up to his post and gets comfortable again with a smile on his face he knows must look beyond goofy. 

"Someone's happy." Bucky says. "He nice?"

"Yeah. Name's Sam. He says hi."

Bucky swats at him and grins out across the hordes of people. "See, I told ya this job would get us hot babes. Sandlot never lies."

"We're almost nineteen Bucky, I think it's time to stop swearing by a damn kids movie."

"You met Sam didn't you?"

"...Good point, good point."


	74. Samantha Tommie Wilson 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They've got your wife, Cap."

Steve's in the damn grocery store when he gets the call from shield. He's hoping it's nothing serious and presses the green phone button.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yes." 

"We have a situation here."

Steve tries to suppress an eyeroll and tosses a box of Apple Jacks in the cart. "Spit it out then, soldier."

"They've got your wife, Cap. Rumlow and his goons."

"Dammit. She told me she'd stay at home! Where was she?"

"Out getting gelato. We had brief contact with her and she said you weren't letting her get gelato."

"Yeah, so? It's not like she listens to me anyway --  _obviously_." Steve huffs, leaving his cart in the middle of the aisle before running out of Publix. He easily books the three blocks back to their apartment where he sees an amored Shield vehicle waiting for him outside. He holds up one finger before darting into his house. Steve quickly changes into his uniform, snapping the shield onto his back before running back out the door and into the car. 

Sharon turns to him from where she's seated in the passenger seat and gives him a rundown of Rumlow's crew which hasn't changed much. Steve nods along to the information and pulls his helmet on, snapping his chin strap in place.

"You look pretty calm for a guy who's wife has been taken hostage by Hydra." Sharon says, her eyebrow raised curiously.

Steve gives a mirthless laugh, "Sammy knows how to take care of herself, trust me. 's one of the many reasons I fell for her in the first place. She'll be fine."

* * *

Steve rams the underground bunker's door in and tosses his shield at the first barrel he sees, Shield agents taking fire behind him. He lets them take care of all of the goons. He wants Rumlow. 

Steve steps over the bodies on the floor where they have fallen and jogs down a side corridor in search of his wife. The bunker's layout isn't too complex and he finds his two targets pretty easily in the last compartment. 

Sam's hands are tied behind a lead pipe and she looks more annoyed than anything else. Rumlow however has a broken nose and two blackening eyes that Steve can't help but let out a loud guffaw at. Sam lights up when she hears it and matches it with her own.

"Hey baby. They got me at a fucking gelato truck, can you believe that? The level of disrespect is  _unmatched._ "

"I told you to stay at the house."

"The house doesn't have gelato, Steve!"

"I was going to the grocery store! I  _literally_ had it in the damn cart until I got a call from Shield saying you-know-who has been kidnapped!"

Sam sucks her teeth at him and rolls her eyes, but Steve can't even feel it in himself to be truly mad. He nods towards Rumlow with a smirk.

"She give that to ya?"

"The bitch headbutted me." 

Steve slings his shield out of instinct at the name and Sam pipes up, "This  _bitch_ has a bigger dick than you, dipshit!"

He catches his shield when it comes back to him and says, "Is your nose broken?"

"Yeah."

He gives a pleased smile in Sam's direction, "That's my baby."

"Damn right." 

"You know, you two are disgusting."

They both shout for him to fuck off at the same moment and Steve makes quick work of knocking Rumlow out. He walks over to Sam and leans close to untie her binds. She smiles at him from under her lashes and he can't deny even worn from wear she looks beautiful. 

"That was hot. Thanks for saving me,  _Captain America._ " 

Steve hisses as she nudges her knee against his crotch and tries to hopelessly reprimand her.

"Samantha, no, not here."

"Why, we've done it before? We've been over this, Stevie, fucking over unconscious racists lights a fire in me, c'mon."

As soon as her hands are free she uses them and her surprising strength to yank Steve to her. He looks down at her quite helplessly and feels the exact moment he gives in. Groaning his defeat Steve stoops to lift her up and Sam lets out a triumphant cackle.

* * *

"What took you guys so long? Did you bang over the Hydra soldiers again?"

"No." "Yes."

 _"Steve!"_  

He jumps and shrugs uselessly at her. "What? I'm honest."

"I can't believe you sometimes."

"What? You can't believe a guy who always tells the truth?"

Sam shakes her head, but laughs when he runs to catch up to her, snatching her up in his arms and turning her sideways to hold her like a sack of potatoes.

"Next time I tell you to stay home are you going to do it?"

"Let's be honest here, Steve, probably not." 

 

 


	75. Sore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is called in on a mission but has to decline because he's not really feeling up to it. Sam is highly amused.

"Steve, we need you to come in. Another Hydra hide out has popped up on the map."

Agent Hill scares just about everyone so Steve really doesn't feel safe saying no to her, but he's certainly not in any shape to go out in the field. He winces as he shifts on the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath his bum and trying to say no without having to give the embarrassing reason why.

"About that...I can't...right now. I'm uh, a little sore."

"From what? You haven't been out in three weeks time."

Steve's cheeks burn and he tries not to hang up right then and there. "Yeah, I know. I just...sprained something."

"Where? Is it serious? How long will you be out?"

Steve curses under his breath while Sam's laughter meets his ears from the kitchen. "Listen, Hill, it's kind of personal, okay?"

"Steve. Don't tell me this is sex-related."

"It's not my fault okay!"

"Don't believe him, yes it is!" Sam shouts from the kitchen. Steve hisses at him to shut up, and he can sense Maria's eye roll through the damn phone.

"You're meaning to tell me the reason I can't put Captain goddamn America in the field is because his husband fucked him a little too hard the night before?"

"Well I wouldn't put it in that crass of terms, but yes."

"How would you put it, Steve?" Maria replies, her tone exasperated but somehow amused.

"I'd say Sam is a very talented lover and in the moment I was having the time of my life."

Steve hangs up to leave Hill laughing as Sam comes around to sit next to him with two sandwiches, chips, beer and an ice pack. Steve gives him a grateful look before snatching the bag of ice and swiftly placing it under his ass. 

"That was one of the most embarrassing phone conversations I've ever had. Thanks a lot."

Sam laughs at him again and shakes his head, "Don't blame me, you were the one who was too hot and bothered to prepare properly. 'I'm a supersoldier, I'll be  _fine_ , Sam, just hurry up!'"

Steve guffaws at Sam's high pitched impression and shoves him. "I  _do not_ sound like that!"

"Not all the time but last night you sure did. At least we had fun. Next time let me do it right and you won't have to ice your asshole."

"Shut up, Sam."

"No joke, though, thanks for calling me a "talented lover" I gotta put that on a card somewhere."

"I fucking hate you sometimes." Steve grumbles, taking a bite of his sandwich and turning the TV on. But he smiles when Sam leans over and presses him into the couch, wrapping him up in his arms and taking a bite at his ear.

"That's mean, Stevie. Give me a kiss." 

Steve laughs as Sam puckers his lips and he can't help but tip forward to softly take his lips with his own. 


	76. Leave A Message After the Beep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are on a break after the events of Civil War because Sam has to figure out some personal things and is too depressed to be in a proper relationship. Steve leaves him voice mails everyday.

Sam's slowly gotten used to listening to Steve's voice every day even if his lover isn't physically  _here._ He's not sure when he started to look at his machine with excitement when he came home, but it's too late to tell. He's kept every single message. He can't seem to part with them. Not yet anyway. 

1.  _*Beep*_

_"Hey, Sam...it's me, Steve. I'm just-- hell, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm checking on you I guess. I wish I could be with you as you figure this out but I guess that's asking too much of you. I just know that I could help. I miss you. But I bet you already knew that. I still love you. I don't think that'll ever stop, and if you ever need me just...give me a call. I'm sorry to bother you. I won't blame you if you delete this or never listen to it in the first place. Okay, I'll let you go now. I hope you're doing better. Bye."_

2\. * _Beep*_

_"Me again. Just thinking about you... again_ _, haha. I always think about you, just so you know. Every damn black guy I see on the street makes my heart jump because even though I know it's not you, that it can't **possibly**_ _be you, I still let myself hope for just a few seconds. It makes me feel better somehow. I set up an appointment with a therapist like you wanted me to. I still don't really want to go, but what else is new? Just send me a text letting me know you're okay please. That's all. Alright. Bye."_

Sam did send him a message, and he had appreciated Steve's short reply of a thank you. But the messages didn't stop, not that he expected them to.

3.  _*Beep*_

 _"I'm still getting all your mail over here. I don't know if you really give a shit, but it's piling up pretty high over here. I haven't opened any of it. I wouldn't do that to you of course. It just hurts to see your name printed on every envelope like that cause I know what it means -- what it **use** to mean." _ He chokes up a little bit and the machine recording of his sob sounds empty and hollow. It still makes Sam's heart hurt when he hears it.  _"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I, um, I don't want to guilt trip you if this is what you need. I'm okay, Sam. I am. Nat comes over a lot to keep me company. Betsy misses you though. She'll sit at the foot of your favorite chair sometimes and look at me like it's all my fault."_ He gives a humorless laugh.  _"Anyway, I think that's enough self pity today. I'mma go now. Bye."_

4.  _*Beep*_

_"Hey. I had a good day today. Made a lot of progress. Didn't even sniff one of the shirts you left over here. Sometimes I think it's funny because I'm acting like you're dead or some place that I can't follow, but you're not. I know exactly where you are. And every day I drive by the motel you got for yourself, but I force myself not to stop or go in, because I know you need to be alone. Still hurts like hell though."_

After the fourth message Sam had a lapse in strength and called him back. The two of them talked for hours like they always could, like they always did and nothing has changed. 

"Sam, do you think maybe...you could come back?" And Sam sighs as he hears Steve swallow and his voice cracks on the next word. "Please?"

"I don't know, Steve."

"What do you mean you don't know, Sam?" And he sounds torn apart and exasperated and Sam doesn't know what to do about that. "You just come back to me, that's all you have to do! I don't understand, am I not good for you or something? Am I what's making you sad? I just want to  _help_ you!"

"Steve, it's not that. Please don't think that, baby."

"No. No, you don't get to call me baby when you're not sleeping next to me every night and I'm not burning your damn toast in the morning. I'm already missing the hell out of you and then you want to go and call me baby like nothing's wrong with this picture we're in. That's not fair."

"Well maybe it's not fair for you to leave me messages every damn day!"

"No one's forcing you to listen to them."

"Like I could ever delete or ignore anything that's you, Steve."

"You seem to be doing a damn good job of it, Sam."

And he shrinks back at that, because it's true. He does seem to be doing just okay without Steve there, even if it's not true. But it's not as if he calls Steve to let him know that. 

"I'm not doing a damn good job of it, Steve. I fucking love you too, but I'm not my best right now and you deserve-"

"Oh, don't give me that fucking shit, Sam. You're not Batman and I'm not Gotham. We're Sam and Steve, or we could be if you just got over your damn self and came back to our home,  _our_ home. I'm not gonna leave you just because you're depressed. After all the shit we've been through I'm not surprised this is where you are, but I  _am_ surprised we're going at this apart from each other."

Sam hangs his head and feels tears stream slowly down his cheeks. 

"I know the reason you don't call me back is because if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from coming back to me. Because you know damn well that's how it should be. You should be with me, but instead you want to sit and suffer alone. I don't care anymore. I'm not going to talk about this any further. You're either coming back or I'm going to drive over there and throw you in the car kicking and screaming, got it? Now what's it gonna be?"

"Steve."

"What's it gonna be, Sam?" 

He sniffs and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "How fast can you get here?"

Steve's there in fifteen minutes, Betsy bounding out of the car after him and scratching furiously at his motel door. Sam opens it and the lab tackles him to the ground. In some fit of strength and self control Steve lets them have their moment while he loads the car up with Sam's things. 

Sam sees anger in the set of his jaw and the hard line of his brow and decides not to say anything. He climbs into the passenger seat with Betsy on his lap and the three of them drive back to the apartment he's been away from too long. 

When they're there Steve unloads everything and Sam stands unsurely in the living room, watching him. 

"I'm sorry, Steve. I saw, well  _heard_ what I was doing to you and didn't come back, and I'm sorry."

There are tears in his eyes when he turns to face him but Steve shakes his head and crosses his arms when Sam steps forward. "You should be. That's not what a relationship is, Sam. When someone needs you you come back -- that's how it works. I might have my faults but this is on you, and I'm not gonna lie I'm pissed it went on for as long as it did. A whole fucking  _month_ , Sam? What the hell is that?"

"I don't know what to say. What would make you feel better? I'll do anything you want."

At that Steve sighs and nods his head toward the stairs, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops. 

"Go upstairs. Get undressed. Lay on the bed. Don't touch anything, and wait for me. Think you can do that?"

"Sure."

And Sam jogs quickly up the stairs. This certainly took a different turn than he was expecting. He was thinking maybe a foot massage or some cuddling, but this can work too he guesses. He sits down on the bed that's still familiar and toes off his shoes before tugging his jeans off along with his shirt. He wriggles out of his boxers and lies down as asked, completely still. 

A few moments later he hears Steve coming up the stairs after telling Betsy to stay. She whimpers but the sound of her collar goes silent and Steve enters the bedroom alone. He closes the door behind him and slowly walks to the side of the bed.

"I missed you like crazy and I haven't slept here a night since you've been gone."

"Where'd you sleep?"

"The couch, with Betsy. So I'm gonna make you pay for that."

"Your solution to all of this is a round of hate sex?"

Steve frowns and shakes his head, slowly crawling over him. "Not hate, never that. We're just making up, that's all. Getting reacquainted if you will, and I'm gonna fuck you good and hard so you'll never want to leave again. How does that sound?"

Sam's breath chokes in his throat and he breathes, "It-it sounds good."

"Then let's get started."


	77. Punchlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a come on he never got to use on Sam and asks him in the middle of the night if he wants to hear it.

Steve reaches out and gently shakes the shoulder in front of him.

"Sam. Sam, are you up?" He whispers.

Sam rolls over and turns to look at him, his eyes tired but open. "Yeah, what's up, baby?"

"You wanna hear a come on I didn't use all those years ago when we first met?"

His eyes alight with interest and Sam scoots closer, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, really? I didn't know you had restraint, Steve. Lay it on me."

"You have to say your line -- about the bed."

"Okay. So it's your bed, right?"

"Yeah, you're not in it."

Sam laughs and Steve smiles even as his husband shoves at him and moves closer. Steve happily reaches out to hold him close and kisses his round, smiling cheek. 

"'s pretty good, right? You would've gotten with me sooner if I had said that then, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know about that, Steve, but I have to admit it's pretty smooth." 

Steve wags his eyebrows up and down and tugs Sam on top of him. "Is it smooth enough to get me some lovin' tonight or not?"

Sam laughs again, letting his head fall down against the meat and bulk of Steve's shoulder and shaking his head. "I don't know, baby. I'm gonna need more convincing than that -- I'm tired."

"So I'll top -- no problem."

"Well, I'm still tired, and you got offended the last time I fell asleep on you even though you said you wouldn't."

"I was throwing down some of my best moves, Sam! Plus, what's the point of having sex if your partner's sleeping? That's just -- gross and creepy, y'know? Doesn't feel right." 

Steve shudders to emphasize this point and Sam rolls his eyes. "If you had hit me up about an hour and a half ago I think the answer would be yes, but unfortunately time travel is not under Captain America's abilities. I'll make a deal with you though."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll rub my hands all over myself nice and sexy like and you can watch -- maybe jerk yourself off. That sound good?"

Steve's heart picks up at the thought and he nods doggedly before surging forward and giving Sam a quick and grateful kiss. 

Sam laughs at his eagerness as he starts to shove at his sleep pants. "Alright! Alright, you're eager, I get it, Steve -- we have all night, now calm down!"


	78. The Wedding Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the true update. I'll also make another one later on today. But this is based on the movie with Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney about hiring an escort for a date to a wedding. Steve is the man going to Bucky's wedding and Sam is the escort he begins to fall for.

This probably wouldn't be happening if Sam wasn't so damn handsome, charming, smart, and all around perfect. Then maybe Steve would've had a chance and he wouldn't have fallen for him, but of course he has. It's the last day of this spectacular fanfare -- the day of the actual wedding, and Steve doesn't want it to end.

He watches from their table as Sam mingles with guests, the people around him laughing at some joke he's made before he turns and raises his glass in Steve's direction. Steve tries to manage a smile but finds it too hard. Sam raises an eyebrow and he shakes his head in reply, and then Sam's saying something and walking back to him like an actual good date. Like he's not an escort who's only doing his job. 

"You okay?" Sam asks, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. 

"Yeah, I...I guess."

"What's making you guess?" He asks, taking a sip of his martini and eyeing him with concern.

"When I kissed you last night...did you kiss back out of politeness or because it was your job or did you really want to kiss me back?" 

"I kissed you back because I wanted to kiss you back, Steve. It's that simple. I just wasn't sure if it was a one time thing you had no interest in continuing."

Steve swallows and feels his cheeks flush as his heart picks up pace. He leans forward and takes Sam's free hand on the table and pulls it close to his chest.

"I don't want it to be a one time thing, if I have any say in that sort of thing. I want to be with you -- for real this time."

Sam laughs at that and takes his hand back to run it fondly through Steve's blonde hair, his palm slipping down to cup the line of his jaw. 

"I can't believe I fell for some dumb white boy," He sighs and shakes his head,  _"Again._ " 

"Then I'd say you have a type, Mr. Wilson."

Sam's eyes flicker with want and Steve smiles at him shyly. "You know I like when you call me that, but we can't just up and leave at the reception."

"Whoever made that rule is stupid."

"You really want me to take you back to the hotel room right now?"

Steve bites his lip and nods eagerly, "Yes, please. That's exactly what I want you to do, Mr. Wilson."


	79. Too Much Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets a female Sam after the whole mess with the Accords on a beach while laying low in the Bahamas. Sam is curvy and definitely not a little thing. I just really ship Steve with a bossass black woman, and I am living, okay?  
> this goes out to all my beautiful big sisters -- fill up those jeans, get that junk in dat trunk, my humps. in the back. and in the front.

The first time Steve sees her is after the mess with the Accords and Bucky’s gone back into cryo. He’s just left Wakanda himself and has gone to the Bahamas to lay low for a little while, and why not the Bahamas? He’s never had a proper vacation. He came straight out of the ice and into the Avengers — Steve never truly gave himself a break until now.

He raises the glass of something blue and fruity to his lips at the beach bar and watches the few people walking the shore, and that’s where he finds her.

She’s wearing a hot pink string bikini and sunglasses, and she stops her stroll on the sand to pull her hair back into a large fluffy bun. Her skin is dark brown, nearly blue and glowing in the sunlight.

Steve supposes he’s staring too hard because just as his luck would have it, she turns to look around and her eyes catch on his own.

She switches her weight onto one leg, jutting her round and curvy hip out and smiling at him. In the back of his head Steve knows she’s what others would call a “big girl” or at least, if she was a model she would be deemed plus size. And all that tells Steve is that she’s way too much woman for him and he’s honestly not sure he could handle her anywhere let alone in bed.

The woman waves a hand and does a flicker of her fingers in a hello and Steve raises his glass to her. He’s too shellshocked by her presence from fifteen feet away that he doesn’t even think about how this can be interpreted until the woman begins making her way through the sand towards him.

She takes her sunglasses off and sticks them in her massive jungle of hair, revealing bright warm brown eyes that are focused solely on Steve. He swallows nervously and moves to stand up, but she holds up a hand and leans against the bar next to him, her volumptous hip brushing wetly against his thigh.

His mouth goes dry and his leg burns through his jeans.

“Hey there. How’s it goin’?” She asks, and her voice is just as beautiful as she is — warm and sweet as honey.

“Uh, h-hi. I’m Steve.” He blurts out, internally cursing himself after he shoves his hand out _way_ too eagerly.

She gives him a funny, but amused look and shakes his hand with hers, which is wet like the rest of her.

“Samantha, I let my lovers call me Sam.”

Steve’s cheeks burn and he coughs to cover up the whine he makes at that. Sam laughs at him, patting his back encouragingly.

“Sorry, maybe that was too much for a pretty white boy like you.”

He shakes his head and feels brave enough to give her a slow, perusing once over. _“All_ of you is too much for a pretty white boy like me.”

Sam throws her head back and laughs, and Steve’s sure she doesn't mean her breasts to shake like the way they do with the motion, or she's just seducing him and doing a damn good job of it. 

"I appreciate you admitting it -- that means a lot, but I disagree. I know who you are, and if you can save Manhattan from an alien invasion you can definitely handle taking me to bed for a good time. So what do you say?" 

Steve shakes his head, and this was going so well. "You're not over here simply because of that, are you? This isn't some strange way of thanking me for my so called service?"

Sam's eyes darken and she shakes her head. "I would never sell myself short like that, so no. I only knew you looked familiar when I came over here, but I also thought you looked handsome," She shrugs a shoulder and tightens the tie around her hair, "Thought I'd give you a chance, see if you could put it down right."

Steve laughs and she smiles easily, and he can tell she's happy they're back to the light banter of before. Steve moves to down the rest of his drink, but Sam takes it from his hand and does it for him with a mischievous smirk. 

"So you in or what?"

* * *

 

"Damn. I don't even smoke, but this feels like one of the moments I should." Steve says, and Sam laughs against him.

They're lying in Sam's bed, her hair tickling the bottom of Steve's chin as her lips brush along the hard line of his collar bone. His hands push the sheet lower and his fingers move to lightly trace along the range of scars marring the otherwise flawless skin of her back. They're raised but smooth and long since healed. 

"Where'd you get these from?" He whispers, pressing his chin to his chest to look down at her. Sam raises her head and rolls up into a sitting position so Steve can easily see the expanse of her scarred back.

"You're not the only soldier here, Steve. 58th Pararescue -- it was a top secret project and I got to be one of the first guinea pigs if you will. So of course there was going to be some hangups here and there. First trial run gave me these two."

She points to two identical skiddish marks on either side of her shoulder blades. She goes through every story that lead to every scar and Steve rests his head on his arms and listens to every single one.

And just when he's sad to think it's over she turns around and shows him more that he must have missed, one hidden beneath the curve of her right breast where she says some thug once stabbed her when she was little. 

When Sam's finally shown every blemish she lays back down to find Steve's interested once again. She looks down at it silently for a moment before looking back up at him disbelievingly. 

"Hearing about my battle scars got you hot, huh?"

"A little bit, what can I say?"

Sam smiles and leers at him prettily, throwing a thick leg over him and pressing him down into the mattress. Steve runs his hands up her soft, curving thighs and holds her close. 

"You want to go again?"

"I don't know," And he winces at the memory of their first round. How Sam's hair bounced along with her tits and everything -- how she rode him into the mattress and then some. He's pretty sure his legs started to go numb which was welcomed after the cramps he got from curling his toes, and he might've blacked out at least once.

"I hardly survived the first time."

Sam laughs again and leans down to kiss him slowly, and Steve thinks that the best word to describe her would be undeniable.

"C'mon, I'll let you do all the work this time -- I promise. You can control everything this round. How do you want me, huh?"

"On your front," Steve breathes, letting his hands grip her full posterior. "I wanna see every story." 

When they're done for the second time Steve crawls over to her and pulls her greedily to his chest. He knows she's beginning to fall asleep but he whispers his confession anyway.

"I don't think I can leave you."

"Then don't." She replies, not even bothering to open her eyes.

And Steve lets himself believe for a night that it's just that painfully simple.


	80. Thanks to Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda talks to Steve about his very obvious feelings for Sam but little does Steve know she has a plan and Sam is just outside the door.

Steve watches Wanda cross her arms and glare at him silently for a few minutes after the disaster that was breakfast with the team. It wasn't that much of a disaster, it was just embarrassing because she caught him staring at Sam several times and he blushed a good seven times in under an hour. 

"What?" He asks, breaking the silence between them and making Wanda snort.

"What, Steve? What? You know what. If you have a little crush on Sam then-"

"It's  _not_ some 'little crush,' that makes it sound like it has a chance of going away. Sam could get married tomorrow and I'd still want him as desperately as I do. I  _love_ him, Wanda. It's not some light, innocent schoolboy shit -- this is full blown, Marvin Gay  _Let's Get It On_ kind of loving, okay? I just want to hold him all the damn time and kiss him and tell him how much he means to me, tell him I love him." 

Steve doesn't know when he reached out with his hands, but closes his yearning palms and lets them fall back to his sides with a sigh.

"I love Samuel Thomas Wilson so much I would've thought it was impossible. I love his name. I love his fucking hands, he has such manly hands, thick fingers too. Not that I think about that, but y'know, I just kind of  _noticed_. I can't help but notice every little thing about him. I notice when he hasn't gotten a hair cut in a while and when he's groomed his goatee a little more and then I get mad that it wasn't  _me_ who got to do that for him. And the thought of anyone else getting to do those intimate things with him,  _for_ him, makes me want to knock the sun out of the damn sky.

"I know I have to get a handle on it --  _do_ something about it so it won't affect the team. Trust me, I know."

"Well you don't have to worry about that, I already took care of it for you."

Steve raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to ask what the hell she's talking about when the door opens and a stunned looking Sam walks in. Steve feels his face burn a vibrant red and his feet turn to lead in his boots. Damn it. Sam looks so surprised to have heard him say those words about  _him_ of all people, and Steve can't imagine why. It must not be the fact that Sam doesn't know he's a great catch, it's probably more the fact Steve is the one to recognize that.

"Steve?"

He grunts in response, not sure he can think of anything else at the moment. 

Sam takes another step forward cautiously, curiously. "Did you mean all of that sappy shit? Like for real meant it?"

"Of course I did. Why would I  _willingly_ sound like an idiot gone over someone else like that? It's embarrassing."

"But it's true."

"Well, yeah." Steve huffs, shoving his hands in his pockets and scraping the edge of his boot against the ground. Before he knows it his chin is being tilted back up and the smell of Sam he cherishes so much is all over him, his lips smearing against his in a hurried and enthusiastic kiss. Sam tugs him close with the hands on his lower back and Steve squeaks in surprise at everything.

"Well, I don't think I can top all the sappy romantic shit you said, but ditto."

"You like me too?"

"No, I love you too." Sam corrects him, pulling him in for a hug that Steve happily lets himself sink into.


	81. Prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve's daughters are going to prom together and Steve is trying not to cry.

Sam hears Steve's wail before he even slumps into their bedroom, falling onto the bed with his head on Sam's lap. He rolls his eyes and reluctantly closes his book before weaving his hands through Steve's hair. 

"What?"

"They're going to prom, Sam! They're going to  _prom!_ I have half a mind to say no. I really do. But that would be messed up wouldn't it?" And Steve looks up at him to see Sam nod in agreement.

He groans again and throws his arms out helplessly against the heavens. "God, I want to curse so badly right now!"

"Kids cover your ears!" Sam shouts.

"Why?"

_"FUCK!"_

Sam laughs as Lola and Margie come rushing in. "That's why." 

"Papi, you can't curse like that!" Lola admonishes, obviously scandalized but slightly amused.

Steve scoffs at her and rolls over away from them, pulling his knees to his chest, "Oh, the hell I can't. I haven't cursed in ten years and now my babies are going to prom, and soon it will be college." 

He sits up abruptly and calls for Jamie. A few minutes later the little boy comes toddling in on his still chubby legs, loyal Bucky following closely behind him. 

"Come 'ere, baby -- you're the new favorite." Steve pouts, pulling his son onto the bed amongst the gasps of his daughters and the laughter of Sam. 

"You can't  _tell_ the kids which one of them is the favorite, Steve. That defeats the whole purpose of having a favorite."

"I have lost all care, Sam. I have a daughter who's sixteen and another who's now thirteen and I'm just dying inside. Hold me, Jamie!" Steve pulls his son close and buries his face in his neck, sniffing his still innocent and pure baby scent.

"You can't disown us just because we're growing up, Papi." Margie says, popping her hip out.

Steve points at her and frowns, "You better put that hip right back in it's socket or  _no_ one's going out tonight."

Margie scowls at him but listens and raises an eyebrow at Sam. 

"Just give him some time and go get ready up in your rooms -- I got this." Sam responds, waving the girls away and handing Jamie off to his older sisters. 

Steve then moves on to settle for Bucky, snatching him up when he happily jumps on the bed. 

"Baby." 

Steve grunts but doesn't say anything. Sam knows despite how silly he's acting it's all coming from a very serious place, and he can't be mad at him for that. Part of him understands and even feels the exact same way, as if the hands of time are betraying them by making them grow up so fast. 

Sam reaches out and rubs a soothing hand up Steve's back which begins to shake as he cries silently. "It's okay, baby. They'll always be here, they just won't be needing their diapers changed any time soon."

"It's weird to say this because they're just upstairs, but I  _miss_ them." Steve says, turning around to look at Sam, his eyes wet and red.

"I know, I know." And Sam opens his arms for Steve to abandon their dog and crawl over to him. He strokes his graying hair and laughs ruefully.

"But we're getting old too, y'know -- they aren't the only ones."

"I know. I just...they used to hang off my arms, y'know? And beg for you to take them flying and try to lift Thor's hammer and I just -- parents always say it's like this, but how are we really supposed to know it'd happen so fast? And it's not like I didn't notice the day they stopped putting their damn teeth under the pillow, but...I feel like we were supposed to have a few more years with them. Maybe I'm just moving too slow or holding on too tight."

"No, it's not that. Every parent feels like this. The good thing is we have a lot family albums and  _boxes_ of home videos to reminisce with. How about we do that tonight when they're gone, hm?" Sam rubs Steve's arm encouragingly who gives him a shy but honest smile, "Would that cheer my hubby up, hm?"

"Yeah." Steve suddenly leaps out of bed and runs out the door. "I know exactly the spot in the basement!"

* * *

"Smile!"

"Everyone say, "we're abandoning our childhood and making our Papi cry!"'

Everyone glares at Steve and he shrugs before muttering, "Or not, jeez." And takes the damn picture. 

Margie's dress is a nice sparkling turquoise floor length gown and Lola's is a simple black with minimal rhinestones her sister bedazzled herself out of sheer necessity. They take a couple hundred pictures in every possible combination and Steve even digs out the old video camera to record it all from an "artsy perspective" when Sam asks why he doesn't just use his phone.

Sam hugs his husband close when he starts to cry again just as the two make to leave out the door. Margie looks startled and takes a step back into the house but Sam waves her away.

"Go, I got this, have fun -- stay safe. Don't put your drink down for anything -- I have Olivia Benson on speed dial. Now leave before Steve doesn't let you."

The door closes and Jamie starts to cry in earnest, Bucky trotting over to dutifully lick his tears away as they fall. 

"And now I'm stuck with  _two_ cry babies. C'mon, Steve. Let's start up the TV and get this bittersweet night over with."

 

About an hour into the home videos Steve perks up against Sam's side and whispers, "Maybe we can get in touch with Steven Strange and have him take us back in time."

"Steve. Literally. What. The fuck?"


	82. Twenty Years and Two Decades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam and Steve's twenty year anniversary, and Sam has a very special surprise planned.

Sam leans away from the full body mirror he's dressing in front of and peaks at Steve across the room in their closet. 

"You should wear the suspender's Lola got you for Father's Day."

Steve snorts and leans out to look at him, "Yeah, cause you always seem to undress me a little quicker when I wear those." He walks back into their closet and Sam continues tying the new tie he got along with his dress shirt. His whole suit is new in fact, well, new to him at least. He's never gone out of his way to purchase vintage things, that's always been more of his sister Sarah's thing than his own. But it's a known fact Sam will do just about anything for Steve including getting locked in a comic book worthy underwater super prison. 

"Okay," He says, finishing his tie with a flourish and turning to his husband, "Are you ready?"

Steve steps out and raises an eyebrow before getting a nostalgic kind of look in his eye. "You look...great, Sam. You really do. Now I know why you wanted me to wear these." He pulls at the straps of his suspenders and grins.

"Where are we going that  _this,"_ he gestures between them, "isn't going to look out of place?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Sam replies, holding out his arm and grinning proudly when Steve takes it with a blush riding high on his cheeks. Sam leads them out the bedroom and they stop in front of their young son Jamie. 

He snorts and pauses his video game. "Wow. You guys look...your age, I guess?"

"Haha, very funny."

Steve shrugs, "Well for me he's not really wrong. Anyway -- behave yourself. Lola's in charge -- call us if you need anything."

Jamie nods, tucking a stray lock of his curly hair behind his ear. "Okay, can do. Have fun. Don't break a hip doing whatever you're gonna do tonight."

"This kid always with the jokes," Sam starts walking them out the door and quips, "Maybe he'll be a comedian and make us some big bank like Kevin Hart."

Jamie snorts and Sam closes the door behind them.

* * *

 

Sam has the piece of mind to record the moment Steve and himself step into the club. His face lights up and his blue eyes even look a little lost has they fall over all the decorations and hear the old, tinny music coming from actual record players. There's round tables pushed to the sides of the ballroom and authentic antique chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. All the guests are dressed accordingly and adorning the wall right in front of them is a big banner shouting  **"HAPPY 20th SAM AND STEVE!"**

A slow smile takes over Steve's face and he shakes his head mutely, turning to Sam. "Okay, where's Wanda, I thought she agreed not to do this again."

"She didn't. This is real, Steve. Every last bit of it."

Steve tucks his bottom lip up and his eyes start to shine with unshed tears. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet at a true loss for words. Sam smiles and pulls him into a hug.

"It's okay, big guy. Happy two decades, a'ight?"

"I don't know what to say Sam, I really don't. God, it's perfect." Steve whispers into his shoulder. 

After a few minutes he probably realizes he shouldn't cry at his own party and straightens up, wiping the tears away from his cheeks and giving a bright, exuberant smile to all their friends. 

"Okay, now let's get this party off to the right start. Thanks for coming, thanks for finding the clothes you did, I can't believe Sam's done this for me. So let's dance -- and I don't want to see any move past the Cabbage Patch, alright?"

The whole room laughs and Sam's just happy to watch him be so undeniably... _Steve._  

"No, seriously though if I see a single whip I am going to throw you out."

Sam comes up to him. "He's just kidding about that, right Steve?"

"No, Sam, I'm serious about that. Other than that though, let's have a great time."

Sam's still not over that after they've made their rounds of greetings to all their friends and finally taking their first dance in the middle of the ballroom.

Steve's hand is a warm solid weight on Sam's shoulder as they sway comfortably to the old music that makes Steve's eyes close to listen. 

"I didn't know you hated the whip so much."

"And the dab. I hate them so much. But seriously," And Steve opens his eyes to nod at him. "Thank you for this, Sam. I didn't know I needed it, but I'll be damned if it doesn't feel good."

"I was happy to." 

And Steve nods at him in understanding, leaning in to cup his face in his hands and plant two kisses on his cheeks and a last one on his lips to sweeten the deal. 

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Steve rests his head on Sam's shoulder and sighs. "I can't wait for the next twenty years."

And Sam finds himself thinking the exact same thing.


	83. Calls from Darlene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's being pestered by Sam's mother, Darlene with constant phone calls about making an honest man of her son. Based on an ask to the @goodbrosteverogers.

Steve's in the middle of making himself and Sam a nice fried bologna sandwich when he gets the first call. He's too busy smearing mayonnaise on the bread to look at just  _who_ is calling him, he simply slips the phone out of his pocket and taps his thumb against it.

"Y'ello?"

"Steven. Grant. Rogers."

And Steve swallows as his heart goes a little cold, because he never thought he'd ever hear his full name said to him in  _that_ particular tone again since his mother died  _decades_ ago. 

"...Yes??"

"You are the man who is dating my precious baby, Sam, is that correct? This so-called, "Captain America"?"

And Steve can  _hear_ the air quotes around that title and it  _physically_ makes him wince. "Yes?"

"It's been about five years now. I've had you over for dinner, you've come to a Thanksgiving feast, and have seen four damn Wilson family reunions -- when are you going to make my Sammy boy an honest man, huh? That meal ain't free, y'know."

Steve blushes and chokes on the first bite of what would have been a delicious sandwich. "Excuse me, I'm sorry,  _what?"_

"I know I'm speaking your language when you're older than me. Answer the question, boy."

"I-I-I, um...have to go."

"If you hang up on me you are never going to taste my sweet potato pie again."

Damn it. Steve places the phone on the counter and gives himself five solid seconds to throw a silent fit before calmly picking up the phone again.

"Okay, Darlene, I'm here. You want me to propose to Sam, is that what you're saying?"

"As sure as the sky is blue, baby."

"Well, um," He clears his throat and cocks his head, "I guess five years is kind of long for any casual relationship, and marriage isn't a  _crazy_ idea. But Sam and I haven't thought or talked about it unlike...you, who,  _obviously_ has. So I'll keep you posted on that one, okay?"

"Alright." She amends, but she doesn't sound at all happy about it. "I guess you can taste my pie next holiday season then."

And she hangs up, letting Steve finally take a full breath since he picked up the damn phone.

* * *

 

Only a month has passed since that dreaded and admittedly awkward conversation and Steve can't deny the fact he has been  _thinking_ of broaching the subject with Sam, but just isn't sure how. 

Sam's asleep on his chest after a bad day down at the VA and Steve's happily stroking the back of his head when his phone buzzes its way across the bedside table. He reaches over without taking his eyes off his boyfriend and answers easily.

"You know what I haven't heard in a while, Steven? _Wedding bells."_

He should really start checking that handy dandy caller ID sometime. Steve forces a smile and whispers, "Hello, Darlene."

"I'm starting to want to make you call me Mrs. Wilson, son. The thought of my Sam's naked finger is keeping me up at night and here you are saying hello like it's not a national tragedy."

"That's because it's really not, Darlene."

"Says who?!"

"Shh! Sam's sleeping."

"OH, is he? Why is he sleeping so close to an  _unmarried_ man?"

"Listen, Darlene, he had a bad day today. It's not like I could've broached the subject, okay? It's not some..." He gestures wildly with his free hand, "I don't know, casual dinner conversation? 'Hey, Sam, you know what I was thinking about while we watched Dateline -- marriage, we should try that!'"

"With that attitude he's bound to say no. How long do you need, child? I don't age backwards y'know -- one of these days I just might wake up dead!"

Steve pinches the bridge between his brows and tries not to point out the fact it's physically impossible for  _anyone_ to wake up dead. 

"Look, I've been thinking about it, okay? And I promise you'll be there when Sam walks down the aisle, but just let me do it in my own time, okay? In  _our_ own time. Please."

"Aw, that's sweet."

Steve nods and smiles proudly, "Thank you."

"I'm giving you three months."

The dial tone sounds in his ear and Steve looks unbelievingly at his cellphone. Darlene Wilson just ended a casual phone conversation like it was a damn cocaine deal for an old mob gang. 

Steve places the phone back in its rightful place on the bedside table and shakes his head down at Sam. "The things I do for you."

* * *

So in the three months Darlene gives him Steve makes some calls of his own. A lot of them. To every single friend they have to ask what Sam would like -- just getting some general ideas.

Everyone for the most part has followed one underlying theme -- keep it simple, not too flashy, not too much, but just right. The only thing Steve finds himself  _really_ wanting to do is go back to the National Mall, propose to Sam under that tree where they first properly met and Steve felt like he could breathe for the first time after coming off the ice.

Steve's kind of surprised by how much he enjoys planning everything out for the day. A love note at the place of every monument and then under the sacred tree is where he'll be waiting, not at all sweaty like Sam no doubt will be dressed in his famously tight shirt and track pants. It will be perfect, because it will be them. 

"Hey," Sam says, coming up behind him at the kitchen table and slapping his hands on the back of his chair, "Whatcha up to this late?"

"Uh, nothing." And Steve very casually sweeps all the papers off the goddamn table and props his chin up with his fist to be the height of naturalness. 

Sam scoffs and raises an eyebrow, "Oooh-kay." He moves away to open the pantry and asks, "By the way, why were you on the phone all day? You don't even  _like_ talking on the phone."

"Um, I just had some...business to..attend...to?"

"First off," Sam points at him with one hand firmly dug in the box of Captain Crunch, "if you're gonna lie, you should probably try to sound like you believe it yourself, just sayin'. Why are you being all secretive? Is our anniversary coming up or something? Is there a birthday? Spill the beans."

"I can't, not on this, but you'll be happy when you know -- trust me."

"Okay. I can do that. Now pick all that stuff off my kitchen floor and come to bed, okay? It's late."

* * *

 

Steve jogs in place as he waits for Sam to finish tying his shoes. His boyfriend sighs before standing up, stretching briefly.

"You don't have to wait for me, y'know."

"There hasn't been a day when we jog together that I haven't stuck with you on the way  _to_ the Mall. Once there it's free game, but for now it's couple running time."

Sam shrugs as if to say have it your way and they start together. Steve's eyes aren't really seeing how beautiful of a day it is, and he's not really hearing the music coming through his headphones. He's only thinking about Nat who should be waiting for him at the Mall with all his hearts and romantic shit ready to deface historical statues in the name of love. Since he's Captain America he feels like he should be allowed to that though, if not just once. 

They make it the Mall and Steve gives Sam a kiss on his cheek, Sam waving him off before he takes off at full speed to Natasha's parked corvette far away from Sam's prying eyes.

She gives him a rare and genuine full blown smile from where she leans against the hood of the car, a cardboard box in her hands stuffed to the brim with all the notes Steve wrote himself in his best hand.

"Thanks for doin' this."

"No problem, glad you finally got to it."

"Not as glad as Sam's mother." Steve mutters, taking the box from her with one last grateful smile before tearing off down the track to get his plan in motion. He runs what he thinks is his best time to get back to Natasha who already has the little ring box in her hand.

"I took a peak. I'm surprised you picked it out by yourself and it's not utter shit."

"Wow, thanks." He scoffs and shakes his head, snatching it from her, "A guy buys  _one_ Hawaiian shirt and suddenly he's a fashion fiend."

Steve takes a moment to simply look at the box and everything it fucking means symbolically before turning to Nat again. 

"Thanks for everything, but I don't really want witnesses for this."

"Yeah, I know. It's just fun to see that stupid look on your face. Call me for the party, alright?" 

Nat swiftly drops into the driver's seat and revs the engine before pulling away and leaving Steve to his moment.

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. "Well here it goes."

And Steve stands tall with the black felt box behind him just as he can begin to see Sam coming around the bend.

Sam's arms are full of all the love notes he left him and even though he must be slightly out of breath there's a bright smile on his face. He struggles to pull one out of the pile and holds it out to him.

"This is my favorite." And the heart says  _On your left means I love you_.

"Well isn't that just perfect?"

"What's all this for, Steve? Our anniversary isn't today."

"No, but it will be." And Steve drops down to one knee as Sam's face drops and he pulls the little black box out from behind him, flipping open the top and steadily ignoring the tremble of his fingers.

"Samuel Thomas Wilson, will you please, for the love of God, marry me so I can be on your left for the rest of our lives?"

"God, Steve..." The love notes have fallen around them in the fresh spring grass and tears are dotting Sam's eyes like the first dew drops of morning. "You're so...perfect." He laughs, like he can't believe it. "I- of  _course_ I'll marry you. Yes. Please, yes,  _yes."_

Steve grins and happily slips the ring onto his finger, an unknown weight flying off his shoulders as soon as he does. The gold band is entwined with small diamonds and stands out beautifully against Sam's brown skin. 

Sam's the one who pulls him up this time, wrapping his arms around him and giving him a big kiss every place he can reach. 

"Man, I fucking love you."

"Yeah. We gotta call your mom though."


	84. The Knobs of His Spine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam develops an eating disorder after the events of the super prison as a side effect of severe depression. Steve is worried.

Steve never thought that he would ever gasp in anything other than arousal or amazement when Sam takes off his shirt, but this morning his gasp is one of shock and terror. 

The knobs of Sam's spine are clearly visible beneath his skin and his shoulders are sharp and angular -- reminding Steve of himself before the serum in 1940s Brooklyn. His mouth falls open to form Sam's name and he steps forward, but the words fail him. 

Sam turns to look at him over his shoulder though, like he did say it, and his cheekbones are prominent, his face haggard. And Steve wonders how it could've gotten to this point without him noticing. And then he realizes that of all the times they ate together he never actually saw Sam take a bite and maybe in the end he would just push the food around on his plate until it looked like he'd done something all along. 

The strangest thing he feels is betrayal, and Steve's heart squeezes too tight in his chest as Sam walks across the room to get another shirt out of his suitcase. It's baggy like the ones he's mostly been wearing and another piece of the puzzle falls into place as to  _why_ Steve hasn't known just how much Sam's been struggling. 

He gets a good and long look at the ridges that form Sam's rib cage before the gray sweatshirt is hiding everything from view again. 

"Sam." Steve chokes out, seeing the sadness and fear and  _shame_ in Sam's eyes. 

"I know." He says, his voice small and insignificant. "I know it's bad. It's worse than after my first tour. I don't know how it always happens, it just does. The meals come and the meals go and I don't take a single bite because I don't want to or because I can't." His throat closes up and Sam coughs to clear it, wrapping his arms around himself, his hands shaking against his elbows. 

"I'm sorry you had to see that. I guess I'm sorry from hiding it from you too, but I know it's not a pretty sight, y'know?" And he gives a humorless laugh that makes Steve want to cry. 

"No, Sam, it's..." Steve swallows and steps forward again. "It's alright. I'm here for you, and we'll get you some help, okay? I should've known something was wrong with you -- I mean, I did, but...not this. It's okay."

Sam shudders when Steve's arms wrap around him and Steve pulls his fragile body of hard angles against his own, rubbing his hand slowly and firmly up and down Sam's spine. He finally softens in his arms and Sam presses his lips against the hollow of Steve's throat as he cries the quietest of tears. 

* * *

 

It doesn't happen over night, because recovery never does, and Steve doesn't count the days. He counts meals and pounds. Every day Sam eats a little more, sometimes he vomits it up again, but he's trying. 

There are some days he's obstinate none of it is working and Steve will have to leave in order not to glare at him or accuse him of not caring as much as he does. He knows the words that draw as sharp as knives against his tongue aren't true and so he doesn't speak them into existence. 

One tactic that works well for Sam is a withholding of all affectation unless he takes at least ten bites of  _something_. It can be a damn granola bar or a fucking poptart for all Steve cares -- ten bites before he can be held in bed. Steve doesn't admit that this rule is hard on both of them, but he's sure Sam knows. Steve wants nothing more to wrap Sam up in a blanket and hold him close, but he has to get better. And better means eating. 

It's not easy though. 

"Are you serious?" Sam asks, standing next to the bed.

Steve crosses his arms to give himself strength and nods his head sharply.

"I can't sleep with you."

"No, Sam, you can't. You didn't eat a single thing today. You know the rules, and there's a perfectly good bed right over there."

Steve flinches when Sam groans and turns on his heel, hearing the man stomp into the kitchen. Steve raises an eyebrow when Sam sulks back, throwing a value pack of Chewy bars onto the bed before dropping down and ripping it open. He tears through two bars and breaks them in half to shove them into his mouth angrily, muttering the whole time about what a pain in the ass this "so-called treatment" is. 

Steve's eyebrows touch his hairline as he watches Sam devour six bars in record timing, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. He gulps them down with a glass of water and shouts,  _"There_ , you happy?"

In answer Steve moves over and pulls the duvet back. 

* * *

 

Steve hears Sam giggle and looks up from his magazine to see his boyfriend standing in front of the mirror with a grin on his face.

"What?"

"My jeans fit again."

Sam's smile is bright and Steve can't help but get up and lift him up happily. 

When he puts him back down Steve shakes his head. "I'm so proud of you, Sam."

The man swallows and nods, his eyes growing a little wet when he whispers, "Thank you."

And Steve knows it means so much more than now.


	85. Dream Daddy and Virtual Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam discovers Dream Daddy and Steve has some questions.

Steve vaults over the back of the couch and bounces next to his husband, "Whatcha doin' babe?"

"Playing a game."

Steve looks at Sam's laptop to see what he presumes to be Sam's character blatantly flirting with another man who has an uncanny similarity to himself. He raises an eyebrow and turns to look at Sam. 

"I think I've heard of this game. It's the one where you create a dad persona and then like..date other dads, right?"

"Mmhm, look at you all keeping up with the times."

Steve snorts and gives him a light shove, "Thanks. So...who did you choose? Who  _is_ this guy?"

"I chose Joseph."

Steve hums and stares a hole into the side of Sam's head before he sighs and continues, "I know what you're thinking and you're absolutely right, okay?"

"That you had a chance to lead a virtual affair with another man and then out of all the options available chose the one that looks the most like me to live the same life that we have now only in a simulated setting? Now, why would I be thinking that?"

Sam pauses the game and turns with his lips pursed to glare at him, making Steve burst out laughing against the couch. "Haha, yeah, it's very funny."

"It  _is_ _!_ You can't deny we look  _very_ alike, and I can't believe you chose  _him_ over Hugo."

Sam's eyes light and he smirks at him. Steve can feel his ears burn before Sam even opens his mouth. "So you like Hugo, huh? The sexy guy with the mustache and glasses," Sam frowns and nods, "I can respect that. He's a teacher you know. You're lookalike is a Youth-Minister, he's much lamer than you."

"It's kind of sweet you chose the guy that looks like me, cause even when you  _could_ cheat -- you can't resist aaallll of this." Steve wriggles his hips and gestures to himself. 

Sam laughs at him and resumes his game with a huff. "Do you really consider playing a dating simulator as cheating?"

"I don't know -- maybe. How would you feel if I created a life with a hot chick on some Sims game?"

He watches Sam's brow furrows and smiles. "Touche, touche. I'm still playing this though. I'm eager to get to the sexy times."

"We could have real sexy times  _right_ now." Steve says, leaning close to kiss and nip at Sam's ear. 

Sam sighs as if highly put upon and closes his laptop. "Only if you fuck me with a sweater tied around your neck."

"I have plenty of sweaters, Sam, you know this. It's all anyone ever gets me for Christmas."

Sam lets him pull him off the couch and Steve takes it upon himself to carry him with his legs locked around his waist. 

"Why is that, by the way?"

"What, the sweater thing?"

"Yeah."

Sam shrugs as he walks them to the bedroom, "You like sweaters."

"It's true, but I like other things too."

"Like what Steve?"

"...Damn. Maybe I am a secret Youth-Minister."

Sam laughs as Steve proceeds to ripping his sweater off to tie it around his neck as promised. 


	86. 1950

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the fifties and Sam is a cook in a restaurant close to the white part of town which often leads to trouble. Steve is a cop who takes to escorting him there every morning.

Sam steadily ignores the taunts and slurs thrown his way as he walks to work. He's used to it by now. However he's never been actively targeted before, and by the same group of teens at that. He guesses since school is out they don't have anything better to do than call him a coon and nigger. When the cop car pulls to the curb in front of him Sam's heart actually clenches in fear as the front door is opened and a tall man steps out.

His shoulders are wide and he removes his hat as he steps onto the sidewalk, revealing a full head of blonde hair and blue eyes. He scowls fiercely at the boys sitting on the hood of their car parked in the grass. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Billy?" He points to each of them in turn and says, "I know every single one of your mothers and I won't hesitate to give them a call if you don't get your dumb asses out of here and go read a goddamn book."

"We're just having a little fun, Mr. Rogers." One of them smiles, spreading his arms wide. 

Sam wouldn't stop to watch the interaction if Mr. Rogers wasn't blocking his path, and he'll be damned to ask him to move. He wasn't raised stupid and he's not built upon anger no matter how justified like some other men he knows. 

"It doesn't look like fun to me. I meant what I said. Get off that hood and drive yourselves home." 

The group groans as they do as told and Steve shouts for them to shut up. They climb into their car and start the engine, driving into the street and leaving Sam alone at last. He watches their tail lights disappear and turns back to see the officer looking at him apologetically. 

"I'm sorry about that. The name's Steve." He thrusts his hand out and Sam starts at it. Steve laughs uneasily and shakes his head, "C'mon, I won't hurt ya."

Sam tries to smile as he fits his hand into the one offered to him and shakes it. "Sam. Most men wouldn't want our skin to touch."

"Most men are pieces of shit. My mother always told me that." 

Sam laughs and Steve smiles brighter, resting his hands on his belt. "Do they bother you a lot?"

"Almost every mornin' like clockwork. Thank you, but I have a job to get to."

"Oh, alright."

Steve steps aside and Sam walks past him, after a few paces he turns to the officer still next to him and Steve looks up and his eyes widen as if he's just remembered something.

"Oh, I hope it's alright if I just walk you there."

"If you got the time, Mister." 

Steve nods and Sam shrugs -- it's his decision. When they get to the door of the black diner Sam cooks in Steve shakes his hand one more time and lets him enter.

He's not five paces into the place when the bell above the door chimes again and Steve's head is tipped in.

"Wait!"

His face flushes red and he nods at the one woman who's sitting in a corner booth. "Where do you live, Sam?"

Sam frowns but repeats his address anyway. Steve nods at him again with a smile and waves a hand, bidding a good morning to the old woman before ducking back out of the diner and walking back the way he came.

* * *

 

The next morning Sam opens the door to Steve leaning against the railing of his porch, his cap held in his hands and his left foot crossed over the right. He looks up at him when the door creaks open and smiles. 

Sam shakes his head at him and steps out, taking the time to lock the door behind him. 

"I told you my address, not the time I start to leave for work."

"I found the address you gave me and walked to your work place again to get the time. Simple police work is what we call it."

"So are you going to walk me to work every day now?"

"Well you said those kids bother you just about every day and so I thought," Steve shrugs and pulls his cap on, "Why not?"

Sam looks around him to the cop car parked on his street, and points to it. "We could drive, y'know."

"We could."

Sam feels a slow smile coming over him as Steve remains rooted to his spot. "You don't want to?"

"I won't get to glare at those boys if we do."

Sam laughs at that and nods his head towards the front steps. "C'mon then." 

The two of them walk the fifteen minute route side-by-side and when they come to the teens again Steve glares at them as promised and Sam laughs again. Steve opens the door of the diner for him and nods.

"Same time next morning then, Sam."

"Sure thing."

* * *

And as promised every morning Sam opens his door to Steve waiting there patiently as ever, ready to walk him to work. After a few weeks of this Sam doesn't mention the lack of teenage boys and neither does Steve. He knows if he did say something the cop would probably just come up with some reason as to why their morning walk should continue. 

And every time Steve opens the door for him Sam notices it looks like he wants to say something else, and every morning he grits his teeth and just says "Have a good morning."

Sam's finishing up in the kitchen and getting ready to lock the place up when he hears the bell chime above the door. 

"We're closed!" He calls out, turning off the light and moving out of the kitchen. He freezes when he sees Steve standing in front of the door, his fingers inching around the rim of his hat nervously and a red flush dancing high on his cheeks.

"Oh, hey Steve. If you want something I guess I could manage just this once."

"I don't want anything Sam. I just wanted to say I can't walk you to work anymore."

"Oh. Can I ask why?"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. "I can I just- it's not right, y'know? Not for the reasons you'd think either. I'm not racist, I'm just something else that I...shouldn't be, and I don't want to make it any harder on you so I'm bowing out just this once."

Sam throws his rag down and jogs up to the man, taking his arm and walking him out the front door, stopping to turn the lights off. Sam locks the door with his key and turns back to Steve.

"Just give me a drive home and we can talk about whatever you're not supposed to be, alright?"

Steve nods, still fiddling with his cap before throwing it on and digging his keys out of his pocket. He opens the front door for Sam and waits for him to climb in before shutting it and running around to the driver's side. Sam doesn't think much about the fact Steve avoids looking at him too often other than that it further confirms what he thinks Steve is talking about. 

As soon as they pull up to his house Sam opens his door before Steve can do it for him and walks up his front steps to unlock his door. He pushes it open and turns to make sure Steve is still behind him before nodding his head inside for him to follow. 

Steve shuts the door behind him, locks it, and sits down at the small round table in Sam's kitchen. Sam puts a kettle of tea on and joins him. Steve's taken his cap off to rest it on the table and his hands are threaded together on top of it. Despite his calm demeanor Sam can see the panic and weariness in Steve's eyes and reaches out beneath the table to squeeze the muscle of Steve's thigh.

"Steve?"

"I've always known it about myself. It's nothing new -- I've felt this way before. I got beat up as a kid for looking at my friends in ways I shouldn't, and I guess I should've thought twice about befriending you, but I didn't, and it's too late for regret now. I don't want to make things any harder for you, Sam, so I'm not expecting anything. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"You haven't made me uncomfortable, Steve. I know exactly what you're talking about."

Steve looks up at him then, fear still firmly rooted in his blue eyes. He stiffens when Sam shifts closer and puts his arm around his neck, but a breath leaves Steve as Sam pulls him into a hug and his body goes lax.

Sam closes his eyes and brushes his fingers along the strands of Steve's hair, letting the officer turn to press his lips along the hollow of his throat. He feels the man swallow against him and Steve's knee moves to press firmly against his. 

"Thank you." 

Sam doesn't reply other than to hold him tighter. Steve slips away to lean their heads together, his eyes flickering between Sam's lips and his eyes before nudging forward to kiss him softly and tentative. As soon as Sam reciprocates Steve's hands are reaching and grabbing at him, pulling him out of his chair and onto his lap. Steve nips at his lips and Sam wrenches himself away for a breath.

"I want you something fierce, Sam." 

"You can have me."

And so Steve does, standing up with Sam firmly in his arms and Sam directing him to the bedroom. 

In the middle of the night with Sam's head pillowed on Steve's chest they both are thinking the same thing: this won't be easy. 

 

 

 


	87. The Thing with Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is having a bromance with one Wade Wilson and keeps dragging Sam along on double dates with him and Spiderman (Andrew Garfield version of course).

"Babe." Steve ducks his head into their bedroom with a giddy smile on his face, "Can I hang out with Wade tonight?"

Sam groans and turns away from tinkering with Redwing.  _"Why?!_ Do you like that guy so much? It goes against everything everyone ever said about you being so-called 'wholesome'."

Steve shrugs and leans against the door frame. "I think he's funny and cool. And he said I was his favorite Avenger, so."

"Oh, yeah, cause that means a lot."

Steve actually looks hurt when he says that though so Sam tries not to roll his eyes and apologizes. 

"You don't have to come along, you know."

"Like hell, I don't. I can't trust you two together. Peter and I  _both_ know that. I'm coming."

"Perfect! I'll give him a call."

Sam sighs as his boyfriend twirls out of the doorway happily and he returns to his companion. 

* * *

 

Peter and him shake their heads as they watch their boyfriends play a tag team game at some downtown, archaic arcade with major seventies vibes. 

"It's kind of sweet when you think about it." Parker says, taking a sip of his drink and watching the two.

"What, _them?_ Please enlighten me."

Peter laughs and bumps him with his shoulder, "Wade's always had the biggest hero boner for Captain America and now they get to be friends. Every time he comes home from hanging out with him Steve's all he can talk about. I don't mind of course, he ends every rant with 'but you know you're the only one for me, baby boy.' It's just cool to think he gets to be friends with his hero, that's all."

"Well, Steve is goo-goo-gaga for him too. Hell, if I know why -- it goes against everything about him." 

Peter scrunches his nose up and nods in agreement.

"He says that hanging out with him reminds him of the Howling Commandos -- all the cursing and the craziness that went along with every mission. And I'll be damned if I take anything  _that_ important away from Steve even if they almost got arrested that one time."

Peter hisses with a wince and shakes his head, "Yeah, I'm so sorry about that. I don't even know how Wade got a hold of Asgardian mead and he sure as  _hell_ shouldn't have given Steve the whole damn  _bottle_ _!_ _"_  

"Well it's not like he roofied a grown ass man -- Steve gladly drank all of it to catch up to Wade.'"

They look at each other silently before laughing together, both of them drawing the heads of their boyfriends who stop shooting aliens and end up losing the game. 

"Spideykins! You made me lose!" Wade shouts, while Steve just fondly shakes his head at Sam.

"If you get distracted while fighting aliens, then you don't deserve to conquer Space Plight."

Wade levels the plastic gun at him dangerously, "Say that to my face."

"I just did, c'mon Sam, let's show these chumps how it's done."

"I'm more of a Dance Evolution guy myself, but sure." Sam says, getting up to follow Peter's lead and shove Steve away from the game.

* * *

 

After winning Space Plight to the disbelief and righteous anger of Wade the two couples say their goodbyes for the night in which Steve and Wade share a very passionate hug, Wade pretending to give him a sloppy kiss. 

Laughing Steve waves them goodbye, Peter dragging his boyfriend off and around the corner. Sam smiles as Steve sighs happily, and nudges him.

"That's a healthy bromance if I've ever seen one."

"Yeah. Wade's cool, isn't he?"

Sam throws his arm around him and grins. "As long as you think so."


	88. Kinky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was just wondering what you were doing."  
> "I'm putting oil in my hair."  
> "...you do that?...on purpose?"  
> in which steve educates himself on natural hair.

"Hey," Steve pokes his head into the bathroom door and Sam laughs at him. 

"What?"

"I was just wondering what you were up to."

"I'm putting oil in my hair."

Steve cocks his head and opens his mouth hopelessly. Sam raises his eyebrows with an unimpressed look and is just  _daring_ him to say it, though he has no idea what  _it_ is.

"...You do that? Like, on purpose?"

"Yeah, Steve, unlike your weak white hair, my hair  _likes_ a little oil. Greasy is good."

"Huh. Okay. I'll be right back."

* * *

 

An hour later Sam walks into the common floor the Avengers tower, but finds no Steve. He sighs and looks at Natasha who's furiously playing Legend of Zelda by herself.

"Where's my boyfriend?"

"Steve? He went to Jamaica I think, said something about learning everything there is to know about natural hair."

When he falls silent Nat turns to look at him and sees his jaw is open. "What?" she asks.

"He literally said, 'I'll be right back.' Like he wasn't going to fly out of the country."

* * *

 

Steve knows he probably didn't have to go all the way to Jamaica to learn about natural hair, but he's an opportunist and has  _always_ wanted to visit Jamaica. It's killing two birds with one stone. 

He walks into a hair salon and the first thing he hears is a lot of wolf whistles and cackles that immediately remind him of one of Sam's family reunions.

"Ooh, white boy. Are you lost?"

Steve feels his cheeks burn and frowns at the woman currently braiding another woman's hair. "No."

"Oh," She frowns as if impressed, "well lookie here. I doubt I can do anything for you, sonny."

"I don't think that's true actually. I don't need my hair done. There's no way I could pull off-" He gestures to indicate the hairdresser's mass of dreads and her other clients assortment of braids. " _That._ I just need your knowledge. I'm dating a black man," He smiles goofily and adds, "He's very cute, name's Sam, but I don't really know anything _once_ - _so_ - _ever_ about his hair."

"Is that so. White boy got himself somethin' straight from the motherland I see. So you've come seeking  _enlightenment._ Yeah, I think I can work with that."

Steve beams happily and she laughs at him. "Thank you." 

"Pull up a seat, child." 

Another employee does it for him and Steve nods at her gratefully and sits down, taking out a pencil and pad of paper from his simple backpack. 

* * *

Steve spends a good many hours in that corner salon in the backstreets of Jamaica, learning all that he can about different types of black hair and several ways to take care of it -- what products to use and what products to stay away from.

He learns that oil is Good Good  _Good_ , and no silk pillowcases are Bad Bad  _Bad._ And even though they both doubt Sam will ever want any sort of braids the hairdresser he comes to know as Jehyra teaches him many different types anyway. Steve ends up dedicating a whole page for that -- kinky twists, micro braids, yarn braids, Havana twists, cornrows, etc.

"You think you're ready to put that pencil down and test some out?"

Steve looks up at her with wide eyes and laughs at what he thinks is a joke. "What, are you serious? I could never-- no. Who would even let me-"

"Me, nigga. Relax, I've showed you what I know. It's not rocket science -- it's just hair."

Jehyra sits herself down in the chair and the girls of the salon cheer him on as Steve blushes and tries to refuse. "C'mon, Steve! Show us what those white fingers can do!"

"Okay, but if I fuck this up just know I warned you."

Jehyra goes pretty easy on him and the first thing Steve attempts is a simple cornrow. They all laugh at his surprise when it's not terrible, and the other girls soon teach him how to do other things. 

After conquering cornrows, kinky twists, faux locks, and micros, Steve hugs all the girls and thanks them for their help. 

"Thanks gals, I gotta catch a flight back home. I'm sure Sam's going to be really proud of me!"

"Okay, white boy, just get out of my shop -- I'm losing customers as we speak."

With a laugh Steve finally takes his leave and books it back to the airport to catch a last minute flight. 

Back home he stops at a black hair place to stock up on some of the products Jehyra told him about before finally making his way back to the tower and Sam.

His boyfriend's already in bed when he gets there and so Steve quietly strips down to join in him in their bed.

Sam rolls over in his arms as soon as they wrap around him and yawns. 

"Have a fun trip?"

"Yeah, I did. I learned a lot too. Guess what white guy knows how to do cornrows now!"

Sam laughs at his enthusiasm but Steve just holds him tighter.

"I'm proud of you, Steve."

"Thanks. I also got some good shit for your hair apparently. We're gonna experiment tomorrow."

"Oh, are we?"

"Mmhm." Steve leans forward and kisses Sam's forehead, patting the little fro Sam's starting to let grow out with anticipation.

 


	89. 3rd Rock from the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is an alien that lands in a meteor in the woods behind Sam's house.

Sam was looking for the kitten he saw the day before when it happened. There was a big  _wooosh_ , the ground shook and shuddered and he was blasted with a wave of air coming from straight in front of him. He could just make out a line of trees collapsing and he dropped the stick he was holding and took off in a blind and excited run. 

He jumps over rocks and goes as fast as his legs can carry him -- hoping against hope that whatever just happened is really cool looking and won't walk away. He skitters to a stop along a crater and his jaw falls open at the huge rock in the center of it, smooth and crystalline blue. 

Sam only throws a look over his shoulder to make sure he can still see his house before sliding down the embankment to investigate. 

"Woah." His fingers glide over the smooth surface of the crystal and he jumps back when it starts to glow and cracks open, a cool mist emitting from the fissure. 

Nestled inside is what Sam thinks is a boy around his age, with white hair and eyebrows, his eyes closed peacefully and his hands folded against his chest. He's wearing strange, shimmering robes that remind Sam of the togas he makes from bed sheets and his skin is tinted a light blue that matches the stone he's nested in. 

"Uh...hello?"

Sam watches the being frown and twitch before his eyes crack open and he jumps as if startled. The noises he makes in return are something  _very_ far from English and sound closer to that of a computer crashing or malfunction. Sam jumps back and covers his ears, shushing him. 

"Oh my god, knock it off! Is that you  _speaking?_ No offense, but that sounds  _terrible_."

"That sounds  _terrible._ " The boy repeats perfectly, looking confused yet intrigued nonetheless. 

"Oh, so you  _can_ speak."

"Oh, so you  _can_ speak."

"Or maybe not."

"Or may-"

"Let's not do that. Wait, are you trying to learn by copying what I'm saying?"

The being blinks his wide owlish blue eyes at him and doesn't reply or repeat. Sam nods his head back up the embankment where he left his stick. 

"C'mon, follow me."

It just cocks his head so Sam reaches out a hand that is scrutinized for a good long beat before the thing offers his own in return and Sam takes it, leading him back up and out of the crater his arrival made. 

The two sit down in the dirt and Sam writes out the alphabet in the dirt, explaining all the letters and the sounds they make and how together they makes words and then it's this language called English.

"English?"

"Yeah, that's what I speak."

"I?"

"My name is Samuel, I go by Sam."

It murmurs Sam's name to itself while taking a stick and beginning to write out a different set of swirly characters Sam has never seen before, but after the thing's done the being smiles excitedly and nods his head so Sam guesses he's got it. 

"I. Am. Steven. Or Steve." He says, his voice strange and a little high pitched around the unfamiliar dialect. 

Sam nods and sticks his hand out again, but when Steve takes it he twines their fingers together with a grin. 

"Huh. We'll...work on that. Where did you come from?"

At that Sam watches in surprise as Steve's skin starts to dull to a dark ominous gray, his eyes going black with despair. "Algoron. A planet in the next star system. We were under attack from our rivals -- they were ravaging everything. My mother saved me by sending me away. I doubt she made it out alive."

"Oh. I'm sorry that happened." Sam says, leaning in to pull Steve against him. He feels more than sees his skin return to it's vibrant blue with the heat that radiates from him. 

"What are you doing, Samuel?"

"It's called a hug."

"Oh. Okay."

He sounds so puzzled and Sam laughs. "Do you like it?"

Steve's arms come up to hold him back and he nuzzles into Sam's shoulder. "Yes -- very much."


	90. Queen of New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is the mobster this time, unlike Sam's Mafia Man, and Sam is also a girl -- Steve is her skinny lover.

Steve doesn't know why he doesn't tell the guys his name or who he knows. He chucks it up to pride when it comes down to the four of them in the alley. Even though Steve knows it's useless he puts his fists up anyway and manages to block the first few hits that are thrown at him until one of the guys pins him up against the wall. He kicks for all he's worth but gets socked in the stomach anyway and he can feel the air knocked out of him.

He's blocking out the stupid things they're saying to him, baiting him on no doubt -- probably things he's heard thousands of times before. But then there are tires screeching in front of the alley's opening and Steve starts to laugh as the slugging stops. 

"What's so funny?" The head guy asks, looking between him and the fancy car that's pulled up.

Steve spits out the blood in his mouth and rolls his head back, "Oh, don't spoil your fun. You'll see."

Sam opens her own damn door dressed in a vibrant red pant suit with a plunging neckline that stops just before her pierced belly button. She swings her shiny gold cane over her shoulders and marches towards the scene with a manic smile. Her brown eyes are alight and sparkling with her rage as she looks between Steve's attackers, but as soon as she turns to Steve he sees only fierce love and concern.

Her hand comes up to cup his chin and she turns his face this way and that to inspect the damage.

Steve grins when she shrugs and says, "You've had worse." 

Sam turns to look at the man holding him up. "Why are your hands touching all over my Steve, huh?" She asks, her voice soft and curious.

He looks unsurely at his mates, "He tried tellin' us what to do."

"Then you must have been doin' something wrong. My Steve's a goodie two shoes like that -- some people say he's just weak but I say I love him. And you know how I feel about things I love?" She laughs and turns her back to them, " _especially_ people?"

Sam clears her throat and throws her cane to her secondhand man, Riley, "The answer-"

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and presses his head back against the wall. He knows what comes next.

In a flash Samantha whirls around and swings, bringing an axe down on the jerk's hand and chopping it off at the wrist in one smooth blow. The man wails and flies back, clutching his forearm and hollering in pain. 

Sam laughs, loud and boisterous, and twirls her weapon before pointing it at the rest of them, "If those hands touched my Steve then they belong to me, understand?" 

"Wait, wait, please no! We'll do anything, we're sorry!"

"You'll do anything, will you? Then apologize for breathing his air and lick his damn shoes!"

Steve rolls his eyes and steps over to stand by Samantha's side. "I'll just take the apology. I like these shoes, even though you got blood all over 'em."

Sam leans down and bites his ear, "I know how to get blood out of anything."

"Yeah, maybe don't say things like that?" 

But Sam just laughs at him, easily tripping one of the boys when they try to make a run for it. She follows this up by stomping her stiletto on their palm and Steve winces at the snap of bone.

"And you," She whispers, turning to the main one in charge of it all. "I should have your damn head on a mantle somewhere, don'tcha think? No one's had the nerve to mess with my personal white boy since he's been with me, and then  _you_ came along. Messing up his pretty wittle face. I guess have to mess up yours to be square -- mess it up more than it already is you know, from genes and all that." 

"Or we could just go home?" Sam turns to him sharply but Steve doesn't even think to flinch, "I'm kind of tired," He gestures to his face, "gotten beat up and all."

"Or we could go home. Get in the car, Stevie. I'll take care of this."

Sam leans forward and Steve huffs a laugh before doing the same and obediently kissing her cheek. He drags his feet to the car and nods at Riley who holds the door open for him as he slides in. 

Through the tinted window he sees Sam knock the guy down with her cane and press her heel into his cheekbone as she whispers something no doubt lethal and bone chilling.

Then she's strutting back over to the car as if nothing has changed and sliding in next to him. 

"I'm taking care of you when we get back." 

She frowns looking over his face some more and sucks her teeth as she turns back to the window, cursing. 

"Man, this really blows too."

"Why?" Steve asks, not sure how him getting a little roughed up is  _that_ inconvenient. 

"No whoopee tonight." 

Steve gawks and laughs at her in surprise. "I can't believe the Queen of New York still calls it 'whoopee.'"

Sam squeezes his thigh with her hand and smiles. "I'm a Christian first, Stevie."


	91. Six Letters and A Lot of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve loses it.

As soon as the word is spoken Steve feels something inside of himself snap, or maybe a switch came on in a room he never knew existed inside of himself. He doesn't recall rushing forward though he knows he must have, because now the guy is under him. 

Steve's knees are pinning the Hydra soldier's arms to the ground and he's raining punches down quick and furious with no break in between. His gut is hot and burning with anger and he can feel every inch of himself boiling with impossible rage -- a rage he's never known before even as a little guy itching for a fight in Brooklyn. Maybe because then it was only about him, but now it's about  _Sam_ ,  _his_ Sam, and that's unacceptable to him above all else. 

A tooth is knocked out with a spurt of blood and skitters across the floor. That's when he feels a soft touch curl over his arm and Steve stops to look upwards at Sam's concerned face. 

The world rushes back in and he can hear the gasps from his surrounding team, the wheezes and choking sounds coming from the man trapped under his weight. 

"Steve. It's alright -- you've done enough, okay? Now, let him go."

His brow furrows and Steve wants to ask him what he means by "let him go" but turns back around to see his gloved hands have moved to lock tight around the man's throat, his thumbs pressing mercilessly into his adam's apple. 

Sam squeezes his bicep and Steve releases his grip, watching the goon cough raggedly as he lets Sam drag him up and away. He falls into his husband's arms and can't take his eyes away from the soldier's bloody mess of a face, half of it already swelling up something terrible. 

On their way to the exit Sam stops to say, "Take care of this, I got my own."

Then Sam's throwing Steve's arm over his shoulders and leading them out into the air. Steve can't bear to look Sam in the eyes, keeping his gaze steady on the snowy ground that crunches beneath their boots with every step. He doesn't understand Sam sometimes, despite being the one he's chosen to spend the rest of his life with. He doesn't understand how he could be so calm. Or how he wasn't scared of him. How he's still willing to help him after seeing him nearly murder a man. 

They walk up the ramp of the helicarrier and Sam leads him to a private room where he sits down. 

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know what happened. I don't know what to say other than I've never heard anyone call you that before. I never thought that I would ever  _have_ to hear someone call you that. I'm so sorry you heard it. I'm sorry."

Sam lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. "It's something I've heard a thousand times before, Steve, and it's something I'll hear again. It doesn't bother me anymore, stopped letting a word have power over me a long time ago. I know who I am, I know my name, I know my birthday, I know people who care about me, and I know my family -- I am not nor will I ever be a nigger."

Steve feels his fists clench despite the throbbing of his bruised knuckles. "Please don't say that word. I hate it."

"Okay, sorry. Are you feeling better now?"

"Honestly? I'm still pissed as all hell. I'm sorry if I scared you in there -- I never meant to do that, never  _want_ to do that."

"And you didn't. I was worried, shocked at first, but more worried than anything else. The guy said what he said and you shouted 'the _fuck_ did you just say to him?' and-"

Sam smacks his hands together in a booming clap,  _"bam_ , just like that you drop kicked him to the floor and were on him like white on rice. Even if I didn't stop you I'd like to think you would've come back to yourself. You always do."

Steve nods as Sam takes his hand and lets out a big breath from his stomach. 

"Is there anything I can do to calm you down some?"

"Hold me?" 

Sam smiles and pulls him over to one of the built-in beds along the wall, sliding in first and opening his arms wide. Steve unsnaps his helmet before shuffling in after him, turning so they're back to chest, Sam's arms sliding under his and squeezing his middle strongly. 

"We're gonna be alright, baby, don't you worry." Sam whispers, kissing him behind his ear and pulling him closer.

Steve tangles their fingers together and closes his eyes. "Okay." He breathes, urging himself to believe it.

 


	92. The One with the Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you doing?"  
> "I punched that guy out and lost my wedding ring."  
> "Shit." Steve says, dropping to his hands and knees.

Steve walks into Sam's room of the Hydra hideout and pauses at seeing his husband patting along the floor on his hands and knees, his red goggles pulled up onto his forehead.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

Sam looks up at him in surprise and answers, "I punched that guy out and lost my wedding ring."

Steve glances to the unconscious soldier a few feet away. "Shit." He too drops to his hands and knees to start searching the area for the ring he gave Sam a year ago. 

A few minutes pass with the two of them sliding their hands along the grimy concrete floor before they hear footsteps running into their room so they're no longer alone. Steve looks up at the three Hydra soldiers looking down at them questioningly and sighs. 

"He lost our wedding ring, alright? Can you give us like two seconds here? This is important." Steve huffs, returning to searching the ground again. 

"Maybe it skittered into a corner or something, I did punch that guy pretty hard."

"Why did you feel the need to take your glove off is what  _I_ want to know."

Sam sighs and shakes his head regretfully, "I was being dramatic, I don't know." 

"Wait." One of the guys in the doorway says, making the two of them stop and glance up at him wearily. 

He points between the two of them, "You guys are married...to  _each other?"_

Steve grins proudly and straightens up, "Yeah, can you believe it? It's been a year and sometimes I still can't believe it, y'know?"

"Steve." Sam hisses, "These are  _Hydra_ ** _agents_** , I doubt they give a shit how starcrossed we are for each other -- they're  _racists_ remember?" 

"Oh, right." His brow furrows and Steve turns back to the men in the doorway. "You gotta problem with two men in love? As soon as we find this ring it's gonna be on like Donkey Kong, and you best believe it." 

 


	93. Midnight Pastries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets up in the middle of the night to make himself some brownies

Sam tosses the covers back and scoots to the edge of their bed, Steve's arms tightening around him as he frowns and whines in protest. His blue eyes crack open, half hidden by the bird's nest his hair has turned into. 

"Where ya goin'?" He mumbles, sounding protective and childish at the same time.

Sam laughs and unlocks the grip around him, "I'm gonna make some brownies."

Steve's eyes light up and he quickly starts to scoot out of the bed as well. "Can I lick the spoon?"

"We can share." 

"Alright." 

Steve follows him to the kitchen and sits at the island as Sam gets out the ingredients for homemade brownies. He smiles at his lover, drowning in a large knitted sweater Sam's ma made for him one Christmas. Steve took to it like a fish to water and hardly ever walks around the house in anything else unless Sam has wrangled it off of him to wash it. 

"Can I tell you about the dream I just had?" Steve asks, resting his chin on his hand as Sam cracks two eggs in his mixing bowl. 

"Yeah." 

"It was really weird. Deadpool was part of the Avengers, but Tony wouldn't give him a room at the tower, and so in retaliation Wade ended up covering everything in his lab with Captain America duct tape. So Tony thought  _I_ did it and came after me. He started yelling at me and everything and for some reason I started to  _cry_."

Steve smiles when Sam laughs and only nods to assert that he is not making  _any_ of this up. 

"I'm completely serious, I was crying, and then you came out of the bedroom to hold me. None of us mentioned how or  _why_ you had bunny ears, but you did. I think that was just one of those weird dream things that you only notice is out of the ordinary once you've awoken. Anyway, you chewed out Tony for chewing out me and was like, 'Steve would never do that, and you know it. It was probably Wade for not giving him a damn room.' 

"And so then Tony found Wade in the community floor's living room watching TV and they started to fight. Long story short, Wade chopped off his arm accidently and then I woke up."

Sam laughs as he begins to mix everything together and shakes his head, "I gotta say, that's one of the weirdest dreams you've had."

"Yeah," Steve sighs and Sam throws him a look. 

"What?"

"I just haven't had many wet dreams lately. I've been meaning to look up what I can do about that, but keep forgetting."

"We have sex enough don't we?"

"Well, yeah, Sam, but sex dreams are different, you know? And they're usually always about you anyway. I miss them." 

Sam tuts to himself and pours the brownie mix in a 9x9 pan before sliding it in the heated oven. "I'll try not to envy your dream version of me."

Steve snorts and walks over to snatch the bowl from him, "You should thank him really," He says, dragging a finger along the bowl's metal side, "Most of the time I wake up horny as hell and guess who I turn to."

Steve bumps him with his hip and Sam looks down appreciatively at the pale bare thighs beneath his long hanging sweater.

"Well after these brownies are done I might like a cold glass of milk."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, making a smile light up Sam's face. 

He levels him with a fond but incredulous stare, "Did you just call me a glass of milk? That's the most cheesy thing I've ever heard come out of you. I don't know whether to be flattered or scandalized."

"How about both?" Sam asks, taking a finger of the mix and smearing it down the length of Steve's nose. 


	94. Dancing A Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve invites Sam to Tony's party and finally works up the courage to ask him to dance.

Wanda nudges him with her shoulder knowingly and nods across the room at the man Steve is so blatantly staring at. 

"You should go for it. He'd say yes."

Steve sighs around the knuckle he's biting and shakes his head, "How do you know that?"

"Because he's Sam. And you're Steve. You're joined at the soul, remember? His words. Who would say that and not dance, hm? Now stop being a pussy and go ask him already, before the song ends."

Steve raises an eyebrow at her language and laughs. "Alright then." 

He pushes himself off the edge of the open bar and walks over to where Sam is casually speaking to heroes and other high political officials. If Steve wasn't so hopelessly in love with him he could imagine being mad Sam's so infuriatingly perfect at everything he attempts. 

Sam turns to look at him with a smile and takes a sip of his drink, bumping against him happily. 

"Hey."

"Hey. Dance with me, would you?"

Steve can see the hint of surprise in Sam's eyes before they soften and he downs the rest of the amber liquid in his tumbler, setting the empty glass on a passing silver tray and nodding his consent. 

Steve takes his hand and leads them away from the crowd Sam's gathered to an empty space on the floor. 

Sam easily lets him take the lead, moving Steve's hand to his waist when he himself is too scared to. Sam just smiles encouragingly at him though, letting his head fall against Steve's shoulder as they start to sway and step as easily as they do everything together. 

Sam's warm breath against his neck makes Steve's cheeks heat and he can feel a steady pull of desire in his gut that he has to warn himself away from in order not to startle his partner away. Sam's hand crawls to squeeze at the muscle of his back and gives Steve the courage to turn his head marginally to brush his lips along the shell of his ear. 

"I guess I owe Wanda a thank you." 

"We both do."

"What'd she say?"

"Told me to stop being a pussy, that you would say yes."

Sam does nothing more than hum in reply and Steve pulls him closer to fit their bodies together even more, happy to revel in the heat of Sam's body and the feel of him filling his arms as only he could. 

"I've been dreaming about this, y'know." 

"Have you now?" Sam replies, his voice soft and almost sleepy in its peacefulness. Steve's very much happy to give that to him. 

"You sound sleepy."

"I'm just happy, maybe a little drunk, but mostly happy." 

"Can I take you home tonight, Sam?" Steve asks, pulling back to look the man in the eyes steadily. 

He feels Sam's hand travel up his spine to cup the back of his head and his heart flutters when lips press searingly against his cheek. 

"I'm all yours, pretty boy." 

"I like the sound of that."

Sam snorts and nestles into his shoulder again. "I bet you do."


	95. The Aisle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Sam and Steve wedding fic because how have I not done that before

Steve runs his hands through his hair again and knows Bucky is rolling his eyes as he continues his pacing in the back of the small chapel. He shakes his head, and tries to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

"I can't do this, Buck. I can't. Sam's gonna walk down the aisle to  _me_ , and realize he deserves better. I don't want to go through that -- I can't."

"You've been together for six years, if he hasn't realized it then he's not going to realize it today."

Steve stops to glare at his friend slumped in a chair. "You're not gonna tell me I deserve him, you're gonna tell me Sam won't realize that today?  _That's_ your bedside manner?"

Bucky shrugs helplessly, "You're the one who said it, Steve, not me. And if you're mad about it then that means you know it's not fucking true. So stop acting like a little baby, straighten your bow tie, and let's get out there."

"God, okay, you're right."

"Of course I am."

Steve turns to the mirror and slaps his cheeks, pulling his blazer down and straightening his tie as Bucky said. "I can do this. God, this is really happening. I can't believe this is really happening. This is the biggest day of my life. Okay, okay..." He whirls around with his shoulders pulled back and his chin lifted, "Let's do this."

Bucky nods and claps him heartily on the shoulder, walking him out and to the altar where Bucky stands loyally to his left. 

Steve swallows and doesn't even look out at the crowd towards Sam's friends and family and their work colleagues. His eyes are rooted to the large arched door Sam's to walk out of, and his heartbeat starts to rush in his ears when the music starts and they all rise to stand. 

The door creaks open and Steve gasps as Sam starts to walk, his mother hanging onto the crook of his elbow and smiling lovingly. Sam's grinning too, and the minute their eyes meet he brightens before looking down at his feet. Steve laughs to himself at the thought of him being scared he'll fall. His suit is all white with a black dress shirt and white bow tie, and it all compliments his warm brown skin beautifully. 

Darlene takes her seat and Sam finally meets him with a playful smirk. "Are you  _crying_ _?"_  He sounds smug, "Tony owes me twenty bucks." 

Steve doesn't even realize he is until he feels them slide down his cheeks and he laughs breathlessly, thrashing them away with the pad of his thumb. Sam gives his arm a warm squeeze as he stands in front of him. 

He kind of gets lost in the midst of the ceremony, too busy staring at Sam as if he's too good to be true until suddenly it's time for vows and the priest nudges him. 

"Oh, sorry."

The chapel laughs and Sam shakes his head. "You can't even pay attention on our wedding day? Poor taste, Steve, poor taste."

"Poor taste my ass, look at you."

That gets another laugh for him and Steve takes a deep breath,  _so far so good._

"I didn't prepare anything, thought I'd just say what comes to me in the moment."

Sam turns to the crowd, "He's good at that -- going off the cuff."

Steve laughs and shakes his head, "Stop it -- I'm being serious here." Sam nods at him in turn and Steve finally begins.

"I met Sam about a year coming off the ice while I was being an ass running him down in the National Mall. I never thought being an ass would get me anywhere, but now with this hero of a man standing in front of me I realize it did. I never thought I would get any piece of happiness after World War II, thought all hopes of that went down with the plane and shattered in the artic. 

"But now I know I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Sam Wilson is a blessing to any and all who know him, and especially to me. He saves my life every single day with a smile and a joke and I can't think of a better person to spend my days with. Instead of being scared of the future, I look at him and can't wait for the moments it brings. I love him so much it eats me up inside and knocks me upside the head when I forget it. 

"With this ring and these vows I hope to do right by you, Sam. I swear to love you with all I am and all that I have until the day I die, and I will never take any part of you for granted as long as I can continue to be on your left. I cherish you, and I adore you, and I love you -- forever and always."

Sam smiles as Steve slips the ring onto his finger and their audience claps joyfully. 

"How's a guy supposed to follow that?" Sam asks, rolling his eyes playfully. 

"I guess I'll have to try." Sam sighs and fiddles with the simple ring of gold now adorning his finger. 

"Steven Grant Rogers is a man few people truly know. I ask myself every day why I am one of those people, and I'll get back to you when I have the answer." 

Steve laughs. Of course even Sam's vows would be funny.

"I suppose he just gave me the answer. We mean the world to each other. And I would be just as lost without Steve as he would be without me. Like I've said before on countless occasions -- him and I are joined at the soul. It's about time we make it official. I look forward to seeing the man behind the legend for the rest of my life -- all the messy bed head and the terrible morning breath."

The chapel laughs again and Steve tries to hold off more tears. 

"The burnt toast, and even the nightmares because I'll be the man lucky enough to hold you after their wake. I'm never surprised by how much I love you. I love you more than words can say, Steve. Every single part of you is gold to me, even the stupid reckless side of you that tells you it's a good idea to throw yourself off the side of buildings because you have partner who can catch you.

"But I'd be lying if I said I don't look forward to catching you every time you fall. I can't wait for that to be my official job when all of this is said and done. I hope I live up to your expectations for the rest of our lives, and I can't wait to start a new chapter with you, the man I love above all else."

Steve bites his lip and surges forward to wrap Sam in a hug, burying his face into the side of his neck as their friends and family applaud behind them. 

Sam pulls back to slide the ring onto his finger and the priest says his famous line. 

"I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom."

Steve wraps Sam up in his arms and kisses him softly, smiling against his lips when Sam moans in response. 

They pull apart and Steve shakes his head again in disbelief. "You've done it, Sam. You're stuck with me."

"Happily." 


	96. Wisdom Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are dating teenagers and Steve gets his wisdom teeth removed.

"Dads!" Steve shouts, leaning forward to tap the headrest of Charles seat. 

They both turn to look at him in concern but he has no idea why. He feels fine, better than fine. He feels  _fantastic_ and  _invincible._

"Take me to Sam's house." He slurs.

Erik tisks and shakes his head, "No, Steve. We're taking you home, you need to rest."

"Then I'll call Sam and tell him to come over." Steve replies, digging his phone out of his back pocket.

"Steve, darling, please." Charles says, turning around to look at him fumble his phone to the floorboards. "If we call Sam you'll  _never_  go to sleep."

"I don't want to go to sleep!"

"Then you're not seeing Sam."

His blue eyes widen and Steve whines in protest, finally scooping his phone off the floor. "Fine. I'll sleep, just let me see him."

"Okay." Charles turns to Erik and nods.

"That's it? He gets his way just like that?"

"What, he's his boyfriend -- it's not like he can get pregnant, Erik, what's the big deal?"

Steve hiccups a laugh, "Yeah _, Erik_ , what's the big deal?"

Steve only giggles when his dads look back at him and slumps against the window to rest his eyes for a bit.

The next thing he knows is they're pulled up outside their house and Sam's waiting at the front door.

"Sam!" He shouts, unbuckling his seat belt in record time and flying out the car on shaky legs. He sees his boyfriend's face fall as he looses his footing and then his strong arms are around him, hoisting him up. Steve smiles goofily and squeals when Sam pulls him further into his arms to lift him up bridal style. 

"Yay!" He leans forward and bumps their noses together, "If you carry me over the threshold it means we're  _married_." 

Sam laughs at him, "I bet you'd like that wouldn't you?"

Steve blushes and buries his face in the fabric of Sam's sweater in lieu of answering. 

He hears Sam greet his dads and is shifted around so Sam can shake their hands because they're old fashioned like that. They unlock the door and Steve burrows further into Sam's warmth when they enter the coolness of their house.

"Can we go upstairs?" He asks, lifting his head up and peering over Sam's shoulder at them.

Charles nudges his husband who looks rather weary of the idea. "I doubt he's lucid enough to get up to anything anyway, and even if he  _were_ Sam wouldn't take advantage of him like that, say yes."

Erik purses his lips but nods his head and Steve blows him a grateful kiss before Sam starts carrying him up the stairs to his bedroom.

Sam lays him down on the bed and Steve's munchkin cat, Toto, soon jumps up to join him with a meow. 

"Toto! I missed you! Sam, come and lay with us!"

He takes off his jacket first before doing as asked, folding behind Steve and letting his boyfriend move his arms until they're wrapped tightly around him. 

"We should have five kids. Three girls and two boys, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Um...I mean, sure, I guess."

Steve turns to him and Sam tries not to laugh at the tears in his eyes, "What do you mean you guess?"

"Steve are you  _crying?_ I just meant that, y'know it's a lot of kids."

"And we have a  _lot_ of love." He huffs angrily.

Sam laughs and shakes his head, "Let's just stick to the cat for now, okay?"

"Okay." 

Sam leans forward to press a kiss to the side of Steve's neck, setting his skin aflame and getting a moan out of him. Steve pushes his hips back against the cradle of Sam's but he shakes his head.

"No, no, none of that, remember what your dads said. Let's just take a nap together, alright?"

"Fine. But can we have the sexy times when we wake up?"

"Maybe if you don't call it 'the sexy times' sure."

Sam sighs and thanks the heavens when Steve finally goes limp in his arms and starts to snore lightly. 

At least you can only get your wisdom teeth removed once, right?


	97. The Gap Between His Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a male model trying to make it in the industry and Steve is just his artist boyfriend, but the minute Sam considers "fixing his teeth" to get more jobs he pops off.

Sam sighs after coming from a go-see he once again didn't book, leaning his head back against Steve's lap and letting his boyfriend tangle his fingers in his little bit of hair.

"Maybe I should just get them fixed." 

"Get what fixed?" Steve asks, his brows coming together and his hand stopping in his roots.

"My teeth." Sam smiles for emphasis and is surprised when Steve's eyes suddenly flash with anger.

"Hell no, Sam, you're not doing that! I  _love_ the little gap between your teeth. It's perfect goddamnit, like you, and it's cute too! No, the day you walk in here looking like Spongebob that one episode he was normal is the day I'm leaving you. Fuck the modeling industry if they don't think you're beautiful, okay? And don't  _ever_ bring up this sacrilege to me again, I'm getting heart palpitations." 

Sam laughs and Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and relaxing back against their couch. And that's when he gets the idea. 

* * *

 

Two weeks later is when he actually puts into action, having purchased some nice dentures to pull one over on his very gullible boyfriend who once  _truly_ believed the moon landing was faked. Sam loves him, but bless his heart is this going to be funny. 

He puts them in and turns to look at their friend, Bucky, who's already recording. "You ready?" He asks, giving a thumbs up before opening the front door.

"Steve! Where are you, I have a surprise!"

"I'm in the kitchen." He calls back, and Sam follows the sweet smell to see his boyfriend standing over the island mixing cake batter. 

He smiles at him and Bucky, not noticing how discreetly he's holding his phone and recording it all.

"Is the surprise Bucky, cause I kind of already know him."

"Ta-dah!" Sam opens his mouth and smiles, having to force himself not to laugh when Steve's eyes dawn in horror and he yelps girlishly, flinching even. Coming around the island he walks up and cups Sam's cheeks, his mouth hanging open uselessly in shock.

"Oh my god Sam,  ** _why_**?  _WHY_ would you do this? How did you do this? Is this a joke, please tell me this is a joke. We can get it back, right, can't we?" Steve looks hopefully at Bucky and sobs when he shakes his head.

Sam bites his lip to keep from laughing as Steve's hands cover his mouth. He goes back to the bowl he was mixing in with a scowl on his face and starts to stir it furiously. 

"I can't believe you Samuel Thomas Wilson. I can't believe this. I am going to call Darlene and we are going to have a  _very_ serious talk about this together. And I'll be darned if you're getting any of this cake!"

Steve starts to pour it in a pan and puts it in the oven before he holds onto the stove handle and his shoulders actually start to shake.

Sam looks back at Bucky in surprise and he shrugs kind of helplessly. 

But when he hears real sobs Sam can't help but step forward, taking Steve's shoulder and feeling even worse when he's shaken off.

"It's fake, Steve, it's fake. It was just a joke, see?" 

Steve turns back to look at him sadly and Sam takes the denture off, showing off his ever present gap with a grin. 

"See? It was just a prank. We were joking, I didn't think you'd actually cry, babe. I'm sorry."

Steve wipes his eyes and takes the fake denture out of Sam's hand, before giving an airy laugh. 

"Man,  _fuck_ you guys." Steve shoves Sam and Bucky both and they all start to laugh. 

Bucky switches the video off and shakes his head. "Damn, it started out funny as shit especially that whole Darlene bit, but in the end that was just damn depressing."

Sam moves to hug Steve close and he laughs again against his chest, looking up at his smile fondly.

"I told you I loved that little gap."


	98. Monopoly Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you give me Mediterranean Avenue I will let you eat ice cream for dinner a whole week."  
> "Lola, I swear to God if you listen to him Margie will be my favorite."  
> Monopoly is very serious in the Wilson household.

Steve leans forward with a wad of blue bucks in his hand and a serious look in his eyes. 

"If you give me Mediterranean Avenue you can have fifty bucks and I will let you eat ice cream for dinner a whole week."

Sam shakes his head at her and groans as he watches their daughter _genuinely_ consider his husband's bullshit offer. He leans forward to the edge of his seat on the couch.

"Lola, I swear to God if you listen to him Margie will be my favorite."

Her jaw drops and she laughs nervously, sharing a look with her sister before shrugging and taking Steve's cash, handing him her blue card.

"We all know Margie's your favorite anyway. I got Papi." She bumps his shoulder conspiratorially and Steve slaps her a high five. 

"Now he has five monopolies."

Steve sucks his teeth and waves a hand at him, "Well you're the one who owns all the damn companies  _and_ railroads!"

Sam snorts and smirks proudly at his ownership, "Cause I play smart." 

"We'll see about that," He nods his head toward him, "It's your turn."

Sam moves to take the die from him but Steve holds his hand longer than necessary and twines their fingers together, tugging him forward and into a soft kiss. Their kids groan but Sam just smiles against his husband's lips teasingly.

"What?"

"Just know I still love you, even if I'm going to kick your ass when I remodel to a hotel."

Sam guffaws and shoves away from him to take his damn turn. "I'd like to see you try, white boy."


	99. A Musical Education

Introducing Steve to R&B of the nineties is one of the best and most self-loving act Sam has ever done. Now every morning he can hear his boyfriend singing "Say My Name" in the shower and shimmying to "Lose My Breath" as he dries off. 

And there's nothing wrong with Destiny's Child, but this is the fifth time he's heard "Bootylicious" and Sam's ready for a little more variety. 

"Baby." Steve whips his head around from where he's putting their grilled cheeses on a plate, "Yeah?"

"Come over here, it's time for a little more musical education."

And Sam's heart jumps when Steve's eyes brighten in excitement. He quickly bounces over to him, setting their lunch on the coffee table and pressing himself into Sam's side.

"Is it more R&B? I liked what you showed me last time a lot." 

"Yeah, it's a little diva called Mariah Carey and the Emancipation of Mimi. Then we'll move onto some Keyshia Cole, maybe some Aaliyah if you're still up for it." 

Steve snatches the headphones from him and Sam laughs as he slips them on with a big smile. 

"You ready?"

Steve bobs his head like the excited puppy he is and Sam presses play.


	100. The Best is Yet to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve sit back and observe all they've accomplished together. And they were proud.

Steve feels Sam's soft palm brushing over his own and turns his hand up to twine their fingers together happily. He raises the hand to his lips and the texture is soft and smooth from age, but they've yet to gain liver spots so he thinks they're doing pretty well for two geezers. 

The smell of cooking hotdogs, hamburgers, and porkchops fill the air, and there's the sound of friendly chatter and laughs all around them. Their whole family is spread out across their backyard, all of them beautiful and happy. 

Margie's standing with her cousins from Sam's side of course, a new addition gurgling from his place on her hip. She hefts him up and whips her head around as soon as another of her horde has the idea to do something stupid, yelling for Damien to put the dog down _right_ now. Her brown hair is curly and bigger than ever, tied up beneath a cute bandana. Her skin's a darker brown and a few freckles have popped up to smatter her nose and cheeks, her eyes framed with barely there crow's feet. So of course Margie is beautiful as always.

And her sister's just the same at thirty-two, but still as edgy as she's always been. Her hair is cropped short and dyed a pink and purple that blends flawlessly with her natural black. Lola pushes up the sleeves of her blazer and turns knowingly to her papi's stare. 

Steve just smiles when he's caught and she blows him a kiss before turning back to her wife. Even Jamie's here which is a rarity with him being an international model and everything. No seriously, Steve's son is a fucking model. He can't believe it himself most of the time. 

His hand is given a squeeze and Steve turns to his husband's gentle gaze. 

"Hey."

"Hey." 

Sam nods at him, "You doing alright over there?"

"I'm doing so much better than alright." Steve laughs and shakes his head disbelievingly. "I thought this all died in the ice."

"Well it didn't, and you know that now, right?" Sam tips his head back and closes his eyes with a sigh, "Can't you feel the sun?"

"I sure can." Steve replies, rising to his feet and tugging at Sam's hand. "C'mon. We can't sit on the porch at our own cook out." 

Steve happily helps Sam up even though he knows they're not  _that_ old yet. 

"Don't you ever get tired?" Sam teases, his eyes bright at what he knows Steve will say to that.

"I can do this all day." 

"We have." Leaning against each other they step onto their lawn and go to mingle with the rest of their family. Steve can't help but plant a quick kiss on Sam who laughs in surprise.

"It's been a good life, right?"

"Absolutely." Sam huffs, offended he even has to ask. His arm tightens around Steve's waist and his heart jumps as it did years ago. 

"And the best is yet to come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've had as much fun with this drabble fic as I have. And if you're not sick of me yet, I hope you join me on the sequel: 100 Soulmate Drabble of Samsteve. It will probably be a while before I post it, 1. because of 1950 and 2. it's hard to think of ALL those soulmate scenarios! Wish me luck! And thanks for reading!


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